The Stable Boy
by fitterhappier
Summary: "Blame it or praise it, there's no denying the wild horse in us."
1. Chapter 1

**_Nestled within the Okanagan Highlands of Washington State there lies a magical place called The Promised Land._**

...

"Thank you for calling The Promised Land Ranch, this is Heidi, how may I help you? …That is correct….Blue Valentine horses, Hancock, Driftwood…of course we can schedule a visit."

Heidi holds the phone to her chest and grabs a chewed pencil from the jar.

"Bella, can you please pass me the Rolodex and the monthly planner?"

It's a crazy busy Tuesday morning, which of course means it's the day I decide to volunteer in the main office. I help mostly with busy work - filing, charting payroll, logging overtime hours. Sounds boring but I enjoy it. Heidi, the spunky office manager, sits behind the wooden front desk where she spends most of her day on the phone with potential clients fielding questions about Promised Land while I flit around between the filing cabinets and my own smaller desk behind her. It's a chill working environment. We laugh, listen to the radio, gossip about the guests. There's an endless stream of tacky stories to tell – from guests getting lost on the trails and being found running naked after their horses, to the famous incident of a housemaid opening a suite door to find a guest tied to the bedposts clad in nothing but his spurs and a ball gag. We crack on the guests all the time; the way they sashay around the hotel lobby like it's theirs, the way they hit on the employees like they're part of the package…and that's where storytime ends. We never gossip about the employees. Heidi doesn't trust me _that_ much.

She continues her sell to the curious customer on the phone.

"We concentrate our breeding on those bloodlines, yes we raise them on the range where they're trained and bred, mmhmmyes, sure you can stop by and have a look any time…"

_We recommend early afternoon after the horses are fed and before the sun begins to set_.

I rattle the rest of the spiel off in my head in time with her. I know it by heart. I've had the brochure memorized since I could read and it's hasn't changed that much over the years.

_The Promised Land Ranch breeds the finest Quarter horses in the country. Luxurious guest quarters and a 16,000 square foot guest lodge are available to those looking for the complete ranch life experience, which includes horseback riding, lessons for children and adults, fishing, hikes and cook-outs. The Promised Land is open all year round. _

There's one particular detail that isn't included in the brochure, however, and that's the location of the manor house. Snuggled at the edge of the property against the base of a large cliff is the main residence of Mr. Charles Swan, chief owner and operator of The Promised Land Ranch. It's also where I live. My name is Bella.

Heidi presses the phone to her ample chest again. "You can go to lunch, dear. This is going to take awhile," she rolls her eyes. I nod with a knowing smirk and close the folio where I've been reconciling yesterday's feed invoices.

"I'll bring you back a sandwich and a scone," I whisper, grabbing my purse and light blue sweater off the back of my chair before heading out the door into the sun and mountains.

My life was not one intended for manual labor or waiting in line, for lifting, digging, sweating, cursing, or sleeping on pallets, for waking up at dawn and being called in at dusk. I'm the only child of Charles and Renee Swan. I've been given everything I've ever asked for. There's an army of employees and staff at my fingertips should I need anything at all at any time of the day or night. To some it might be seen as a birthright. To me, it's a privilege, and it's in the humble presence of those around me where I feel most at ease, mostly normal. They're my wonderful extended dysfunctional family.

Charlie Swan did his best to raise me on the Promised Land without the help of my mother, his beloved wife. He provided me with everything he thought a little girl could possibly want. Don't little girls love ponies and tea parties and pink frilly dresses? Poor Charlie learned early on that daddy's little girl was more like her impetuous momma than she'd ever know – someone who'd rather make mud pies and run in the rain in her underwear than sit still for her weekly piano lesson.

It's been an idyllic seventeen, soon to be eighteen years nestled in the mountains where I was brought up. They've been filled with endless summer days spent on horseback and breezy nights relaxing on the back porch. Cold winters drinking cocoa in front of the fireplace. Christmas and Halloween parties in the lodge with the guests and their friends and families.

There's rarely ever a need to leave the ranch. School teachers come to me with their lessons. Trucks haul in food and supplies. But I do go out now and then, mostly when daddy's not around. I've been to the movies with Jasper and Sam a few times, and every month or so I take a ride to the nearest town with Esme and we have a girl's day out for lunch at the beauty salon.

_"You don't need a trip to the beauty salon, Miss Bella. There's nothing they can do for you there. You're too pretty as it is_," she'd tease me as we walk through the mall. We'd go anyway, just to 'pamper ourselves', as Esme called it, although she deserved to be pampered more than me. We'd get mani/pedi's, our hair washed, cut, and colored. (Esme got the color. Light brown over her gray roots. She'd say, _"When you're my age, you'll put this on the list too, my dear. Until then you leave that gorgeous chestnut brown hair as it is.")_

I wouldn't say it's a lonely life. I have everything I need right here. There's excitement and beauty all around me. The sky is my ceiling. The trees and mountains are my walls. And yet…sometimes I wish…late at night when I look out my bedroom window at the stars that appear so close, like they're resting right on top of the stable…I think…there's got to be something more out there meant for me.

_"What are you looking at Miss Bella? Those boys over there?"_

_"No. I mean…they were looking at me."_

_"Of course they were. Get used to that, my dear."_

...

Grabbing a freshly baked cranberry scone from the plate on the kitchen table, I push the screen door open with my hip. It was a good day to wear shorts. There's not a cloud in the clear blue sky. Warmth buzzes all around me as my shoes crunch in the gravel. My dark brown hair is pulled back into a long wavy ponytail. My bangs are pinned back with simple barrettes.

The hustle and bustle of the morning is at fever pitch; tractors pulling out of the lot heading towards the fields, horses being lead out to pasture to graze, some being lead to the barn to be groomed and shoed. The doors to the stable are thrown open. Hay arrived on carts and is tossed into the stalls in assembly-line fashion. The organized chaos of a daily workday unfolds before me. Diligent workers holler orders to and fro. Laughter erupts in the breakfast line.

There's a familiar voice calling my name. My face instantly grows a goofy smile at the friendly face strolling towards me.

"Hey, goofy-girl."

"Hey, Jazzy-boy"

Blond and tan with pearly white teeth and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Jasper is by far the handsomest, most sweetest ranch hand in all the land, and in my humble opinion. He has an effortless way with the horses and a similar way with humans. An instant calming influence during even the most stressful situations, he's helped me through many girly freak-outs since his arrival two years ago. Hence his silly nickname for me.

"You coming down to the hole later?" he asks, wiping the sweat from his brow. "The day's turning into a scorcher."

"Can't. I'm working the night shift in the front office again," I say, chewing with my mouth open. "What's going on out here? Everyone's running around in a tizzy. Is daddy coming home early or something?"

"Yep," Jasper nods, shielding the sun from his eyes with his hand. "And he's bringing someone with him."

"Really? That's weird. Who?"

"Dunno. A new guy, I guess. Didn't think we needed one but he called ahead and told us to put a mattress in the loft."

_The loft?_ My eyes immediately dart to the stable; a long wooden A-frame building stretched out along the perimeter of the drive with chipped paint and white double doors warped and gray with age. To me the stable has always held a strange allure, something I couldn't place, an eerie mystery that I would contemplate from the safety of my bedroom window. The loft is perched high in the eaves and had been vacant for as long as I can remember. In my grandfather's time it had been the residence of the head groomsman, Aro Volturi. I get goosebumps just looking at it.

I can't hide my surprise. It wasn't like my father to add to the staff when there was already a full house for the season. "But, no one sleeps in the stables except the horses," I say, even though it's common knowledge to all. "Carlisle doesn't even stay in there and he's the groom."

"There's no room in the bunkhouse. Emmett's staying on for the summer, so new guy either takes the loft or sleeps out under the stars." Jasper flashes me that million-dollar smile and pulls a bandana from his back pocket, tying it around his wrist. "Anyways, I gotta run." He gives me a salute and trots off towards the field, calling over his shoulder as he goes.

"It's gonna be hot today, goofy-girl! Stay out of the sun, willya! And tie your shoes!"

Huh? I look down at my feet - size nine and a half clunkers – and wouldn'tcha know, Jasper's right. _Well,_ I thought, bending down to tie my fave pair of tennis shoes, _at least I remembered to put them on this time._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I had a nice author's note alllll written out and ready to go at the end of the first chapter and somehow it disappeared. Sigh. Aaaanyway, it went something like this:**

**I don't own Twilight. I don't have a pre-reader so there may be typos. Yes this story is called The Stable BOY but it will be in BPOV with the possibility of some EPOV if necessary. I usually write my stories for myself but it pleases me much more to please you so please comment and tell me what you think. I love your thoughts and ideas and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. (I've been known to get some scathing responses to some of my writing.)**

**Oh and the story's main quote is from Virginia Woolf.**

**Love to all.**

...

It's just before noon, the sun not yet at it's highest point in the sky and already I'm dying to pull this sweat-drenched halter-top over my head and toss it into the freshly manicured bushes…until I see the tinted windows of my father's town car pull up.

From the fields I notice Seth and Jasper jogging to the driveway to hold open his door. I quickly creep behind the hedgerow to eavesdrop from a safe distance.

"Mr. Swan, nice to have you back so early. I hope your meeting went well. Is there anything we can help you with?"

"No, Jasper, thank you. There's a feed truck coming later today. I'll need your help then. Where's my daughter?" he asks, stretching his back and squinting in the sun. He's wearing a cream colored linen suit that's wrinkled from the long drive and he looks skinnier than usual. Probably hasn't eaten a full meal since before he left.

"I'm not sure, sir. …We've made up the loft. It took quite awhile. I don't think anyone's been up there in years."

"Not since Aro," I hear him mumble as he opens the back door of the car and pulls out his briefcase. There's a slam of two car doors and it's then that I realize he's not alone. There's someone else with him; a figure looming in the background. I can't make out features or details. The sun faces me, blinding me, shrouding the figure in darkness. There's only the outline of wavy shapes to let me know that it's definitely a boy standing there all tall and lean and completely still. There's something about this stillness that screams of pride and chills my heated skin and I want to move closer, to see better, but I don't dare.

The wind picks up and blows the stranger's already tangled hair. He does nothing to stop it. I'm convinced he's no businessman I'm used to seeing. He carries nothing, no briefcase. He's not wearing a suit, and my father has been known to fire business associates for not adhering to his unspoken dress code.

Clouds roll in, finally blocking the sun's relentless rays, allowing me to see the boy better. And instantly I know I've seen too much.

He is no businessman. And he's certainly not a boy. Stubble shadows his jawline. His blue jeans are worn and snug in all the wrong places. My mind darts from one inappropriate thought to the next as my eyes follow the length of his throat to the angle of his neck to the width of his shoulders down the solid mass of his chest to the flatness of his stomach covered by a thin white t-shirt. The heels and toes of his scuffed workboots peek out from under dirty cuffs and I'm back up to the planes of his face, all sharp angles and straight lines, squinted eyes and a furrowed brow.

The slats in the garden fence make mosaic indentations on my forehead. If anyone were to catch me in my current crouched posture, if anyone were to speak my name and divulge my location- - I couldn't fathom the embarrassment of being found in the bushes, bare knees sinking into the moist soil.

As though they can hear my face reddening, their conversation continues. My father first with the toss of his hand and his aloof way with words.

"This is Edward Cullen."

_Edward Cullen_. The words roll silently over my tongue.

"Show him around. The basics, for now." Charlie slaps Jasper on the shoulder, nods to Seth, says nothing to Edward, and walks towards the house. His steps are slow, careful and measured, as if there were great weights tied around his ankles. He seems deep in thought as he takes the stairs one labored step at a time and I swear I can hear a faint wheeze in his breath.

This _Edward_ remains utterly motionless, staring off into the distance from whence he came; torturing me with only the slightest peek at his side profile.

Jasper clears his throat, noticing the single duffel bag at Edward's feet.

"Mr. Swan isn't always one for formalities. I'm Jasper, this is Seth."

Edward acknowledges the introduction with a nod but does not turn.

"You'll be staying in the stable loft," Jasper continues in a voice that can smooth edges off samurai swords. "It's cramped but it's clean…relatively."

Edward nods again, barely.

"Are you, uh, feeling alright, Edward? We have a nurse on staff. She's at the other end of the compound but we can call her."

Edward takes a deep breath and now I know he's going to speak. Panic engulfs me. I want to stop time, to give myself at least a few more seconds to prepare before I am assaulted with the new sound of his voice. The terror of the space between silence and sound is intense and real, but it's happening, his lips are moving, slow and deliberate, and his voice is deep and when it reaches my ears, it's heaven.

"I'm fine."

Jasper and Seth start to walk. Edward slings his bag over his shoulder and follows them, his eyes still trained on the sun.

"There's a couple things you need to know," Jasper continues. They're approaching too close for comfort and I'm afraid I'll be revealed but at the edge of the garden they take a turn and I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Don't miss mealtimes. The only vending machine is in the guest lodge and you can't just go walking into the main house uninvited. Paul calls breaks, but if you need to take one early just-"

"Who's she?"

My blood runs cold._ Oh God no._

"Pardon?" Jasper asks. "Who's who?"

_Mercy. Please have mercy on me. This can't be happening._

"The girl watching us from behind the fence."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to those offering to beta for me. I will most likely take you up on that after this chapter. :)**

* * *

_I hear her voice, in the morning hour she calls me_  
_The radio reminds me of my home far away_  
_And drivin' down the road I get the feeling_  
_That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday_

_Country roads, take me home_  
_To the place I belong_  
_West Virginia, Mountain Mama_  
_Take me home, country roads_

"Seriously? What is your obsession with John Denver?"

"Not mine. Mr. Mallory. This is the playlist they created for the reception. It's a little overkill but he's a very talented songwriter."

"Was," I grumble from behind the Accounts Receivable pile. We've been listening to clichéd mountain songs all morning and it's beginning to grate on my already ragged nerves.

"Alright, _was_. Geez, Bella, what's with the bug up your butt today?"

"I dunno, I'm getting my period or something."

Heidi smiles and points in the direction of the kitchen. "I've got just the thing. Wanna help me taste the Mallory desserts? The baker dropped samples off at 5am."

"Nah. …Shouldn't I be filing the paperwork for the new field hand?" I try to ask without sounding desperate.

"Field hand?"

"He came home with daddy the other day," I clarify with fake 'like I give a crap' nonchalance. It's so transparent though. I've only been having filthy, porno-sized fantasies about goddamn Edward Cullen and his ratty jeans and glorious ass ever since his arrival two days ago, when he caught me eavesdropping in the garden like a creeper. I've managed to avoid any further contact with him by volunteering to help out with the Mallory Wedding, which is being held at the lodge lakeside and attended by some two hundred guests.

"Oh you mean the stable boy," Heidi answers with disinterest. "I haven't met him. His file is somewhere on the back table. I haven't had a chance to work on it yet. The Mallory reception has set me completely behind schedule."

The Mallory Wedding is what us mountain folk refer to as a "shotgun" affair. Meaning old man Mallory had charmingly convinced some poor sap to marry his deflowered daughter with the aid of his trusty .22. I couldn't wait to see if Lauren was showing under her lily-white wedding gown.

"I can take care of it if you want," I offer with a shrug. Edward Cullen's personal information. Yes, I'd like to snoop through that plskthx.

"Thank you dear but there's no need. The file's empty. He should be dropping the paperwork off later today though. You can help then."

"Dropping it off?" I screech like a rabid raccoon, complete with dribble collecting in the corners of my mouth. "Dropping it off where?"

"Here, silly. You know that. Where else would he drop it off? …Are you feeling alright, Bella? You look awfully pale all of a sudden."

"Do I?" I chuckle weakly. "That's what I get for skipping breakfast."

_Oh god_. _Edward Cullen. Coming to the lodge. Where I work. Me. In this confined space. With Edward Cullen. And those damn ratty jeans._

"Maybe I should get some air. How about I go get us some lunch?"

"Not on your life, young lady. You sit right here and stay put. Last thing you need to be doing is running errands outside in this heat. Your blood sugar is probably low. I'll get us both something to eat. In the meantime you can file these timecards and go over the stable boy's paperwork when he comes in."

Greeeeeeeat.

...

It's quarter after two in the afternoon and I'd run out of pencils to sharpen. Overtime hours were logged long ago. Feed invoices reconciled. I'd gone to the bathroom and checked my hair thirteen times. Each time it looked the same as it did when I went in the time before - pulled back, kinda wavy, kinda straight, parted at the side. Mallory party favors were boxed and ready. Menus and place cards were printed and ready. Linens had been dry cleaned and were ready. Heidi was still not back with lunch. And the stable boy hadn't come. I sat alone behind the counter adding up random numbers on the calculator. The lodge was usually deserted at this time of day. Guests were out on the trails or picnicking or in one of the many craft workshops. The lobby was empty. Just me and the antler chandeliers.

And out of the corner of my eye…that damn file.

In the top drawer of Heidi's desk I find her purple label maker. Sometimes when I'm bored I make labels and stick them on pretty much everything. Last year Heidi came back from a day trip to find labels on every employee folder dating back to 1985. What can I say - - when I put my mind to something…

I press the tiny square buttons and hit print and listen as the thin white sticker tape appears from the side. Dark block lettering sharp against the white background.

**EDWARD CULLEN**

**Stable Boy**

I peel off the back and stick the label to the folder tab. _There's that done_, I inwardly sigh. _That took all of six seconds_. I loosen my ponytail and fling the rubber band into the rubber band jar. _Now what?_

"Is that how you see me?"

"Holy crap!" I squeal, knocking the rubber bands to the floor. My eyes dart up to the countertop and there he is, leaning his weight on his tanned muscular forearms. The AC makes it unnaturally cool in here but I can feel his heat and the heat he's brought in with him. It's radiating off of him in waves. _His heat_. My heart thrums wildly. His hair is damp with sweat. Errant strands stick to his forehead. He's wearing a white t-shirt again and although I can't see him below the chest, I can bet he's wearing those damn jeans.

He stares down at me with an expression I can't read - a cross between irritation and intrigue.

He's waiting.

I clear my throat.

"I mean, excuse me?"

"Is that what I am to you?" he asks, annunciating slowly. "The stable _boy_?"

"Umm," I fidget. I'm thrown. What does he want me to say? Is he mad? He seems kinda mad. Shit.

I shift in my stupid rolley-chair and reach for a pen to buy me a half-second.

_Don't be a coward. He's just a boy. _

I take a deep breath and lean forward on my crossed arms. I'm wearing a sleeveless baby blue cotton button down and a flowy skirt. _I wish my tits were bigger_. _You're supposed to taunt guys with them, right?_

Only the expanse of the countertop separates us. He doesn't back up. I didn't expect him to.

"What _should_ you be to me?" I say with a stone straight face.

He raises his eyebrows like I've just challenged him to a duel. One he's determined to win.

Shit.

And then, a smile. He's smiling…at me. He's smiling at me. His teeth are white. And straight. Except the ones on the bottom. Two of them are slightly crooked. Dammit, I have to keep talking. I cannot stand awkward pauses. He doesn't seem to mind them.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Since you took your hair down. After you printed out my name and stuck it on what I'm assuming is my file."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out some loose change.

"I was told the only vending machine is in this building."

"That's right. Its just Doritos and candy bars. Oh and soda."

"Uh huh." And he's grinning at me again. "…Well?"

"Well, what?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Not very sharp, are ya?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Here are the papers I'm supposed to give you. I filled out most of the stuff but -" he shrugs and pushes the crinkled pages across the desk. I take them and begin to look them over.

_Name._ Edward Anthony Cullen.

_Anthony_. Oooh that's good. Damn him.

His handwriting is surprisingly neat.

"_Previous mailing address. _You left that blank."

No reaction.

"_Previous employer. Length of employment. Wage rate. Social security number._"

They've all been left blank. I look at him quizzically.

"Everyone has a social security number."

No answer.

"_Birthday_. June 20th." I look at the calendar pinned to my right. "That's coming up."

"Yup."

He's still staring. I feel the intensity of his gaze sizzling over every inch of my exposed skin.

"I, uh, need to make a copy of your driver's license. You do have a driver's license?"

Without taking his eyes off me he produces a worn leather wallet from his back pocket and hands over the card. It's warm from his body heat and to my dismay his license photo provides no reprieve. It'd be much easier to deal with how he looks in real life if in pictures he looked like a garden gnome.

"You're from Illinois?"

"Are you going to question everything about me?"

"I don't know anything about you."

"Right." He smiles. "It's better that way.

Ugh, frustrating boy. I make the copy and give him back his license. There's a few papers for him to sign and once he's done I activate his time card, close the manila folder and stamp the date on the front.

"Well, Edward _Anthony_ Cullen. That about does it. This is your time card. You'll be paid every Friday. You can open a Promised Land checking account to deposit your wages into or –"

There's a slight brush of his fingers against my skin as he takes his timecard from my hand.

"I like the way you say my name."

My throat spasms and I stifle a choke. Perhaps I heard him wrong.

"Um, what?"

He cocks his head to the side and eyes me with newfound interest; an AHA moment, like he's just been given a clue, a missing piece to a puzzle he'd been struggling to solve.

"You're Swan's daughter."

"Yes…"

"The girl from the bushes. I recognize the blush. Will I recognize the dirty knees?"

He's teasing me now. I drop my pen and cross my arms at my chest. I won't give him the satisfaction of embarrassing me again.

"I was just curious, ok. What's the big deal?"

"You spy on people when you're curious? Seems cowardly, no?"

"And what do _you_ do?' I scoff snottily. "Try to intimidate them?"

All teasing drains from his face, like a mask dropping and for a split second I can see regret.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"You're not?"

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, shaking away invisible demons. "No. I would never hurt you, Isabella. ...Jasper told me your name after you ran away."

The lodge door opens and a stream of raucous guests flood inside, happy to be out of the merciless sun. Immediately the lobby is filled with chatter and noise, shattering the delicate bubble Edward and I were in. Heidi is among them, finally showing up with our lunch. She holds up two plastic bags with a sheepish grin on her face and heads into the breakroom.

Edward starts backing up, seemingly spooked from the sudden change in surroundings. A pang of fear slices through me. No! We're not done. I don't want him to go. I can't lose this moment.

I stand and lean over the counter. "I see what you're doing. You want me to be scared of you."

"I wish you would be."

"But I'm not."

"I know. It's going to be a problem for me." He takes a deep breath like he's got more to say, this boy, this man of so few words. What will it take to get him to open up? Do I even want him to? Do I want to know any more than he's willing to put on a job application?

"...I should get back, and your lunch is here. Enjoy the rest of your day, Isabella."

"You too. ...Hey, Edward?" He turns and from the doorway our eyes meet. They're a stunning shade of hunter green.

"Yes?"

"I like the way you say my name. Feel free to say it more often."

His mouth falls open as my comment registers and a new smile appears on his face. He nods and walks out. I sit back in my chair and try to calm my breathing.

_Your move, Edward Anthony._


	4. Chapter 4

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight**

* * *

I've been standing in the kitchen by Esme's side ever since I was old enough to reach the knobs on the stove; learning how to make everything from breakfast scramble to Thanksgiving turkey with all the dressings. Desserts are my specialty, chocolate tortes and carrot cake and the way their smells fill the house. They remind me of when I was a little girl. They remind me of my mother.

"Wanna help me with lunch, dear?" Esme asks in her trademark husky voice. Her light brown hair is pinned up in a messy bun and her cheeks are flushed rosy red. She's a gorgeous woman in her blue cotton sundress and sandals. Esme Platt came to work at the Promised Land Ranch with her daughter Alice when I was eight years old. I used to hope that she and my father would get together, maybe I could call her 'mom', but it never happened. Then one New Year's Eve I found out why. We were all gathered in the living room about to watch the ball drop. I was only thirteen but daddy said I could have a glass of champagne if I went into the kitchen to fill up his. And that's where I found them. Pressed up against the counter in the dark, Esme's fingers dragging through his shocking blonde hair. _Carlisle_. The new groomsman. And handsome and single. He'd arrived that season from Chicago, Illinois. They were kissing and touching and giggling into each other's neck and I felt my skin heat and my stomach clench. I may have been young but I knew I was witnessing love. It's what_ I_ wanted. That feeling in my stomach and heat under my skin. I never said anything and I never saw them that way again. To this day I wonder if I imagined the whole thing. There've been so many times where I'd been about to ask her. We'll be doing dishes or clearing the table and I'll have it ready in my head, _"Hey Esme, so what's going on with you and Carlisle?"_ And then she'd turn to me and ask something simple and smile or tell me I was pretty, and I'd lose my nerve.

...

The men line up eagerly at the buffet table, like they do every afternoon, for their sandwiches and choice of homemade iced tea or lemonade. Light hearted conversation and laughter fills the air. I stand behind the table to make sure everyone gets their fair share, especially when Emmett's first in line. Emmett is new to the crew but he fit in immediately. Big smile, bigger dimples, jet-black hair and built like the Titanic. He'll finish mowing an entire field in an afternoon and be up for a game of basketball after supper. He's from Tennessee…aaaaand that's pretty much all I know about him. Oh, and he has a girlfriend somewhere.

"Hiya, Emmett."

"Hello Miss Swan," he smiles. How he tolerates the heat in a tight black shirt I'll never understand. _All the better to see those muscles though, eh?_

"Bella," I correct.

"Right. Bella." I hand him a roll, he nods a thank-you and moves on to the cold cuts.

At the end of the line, hands stuffed in his pockets, face to the sun, stands a mess of disheveled bronze hair and the plate of rolls I'm holding suddenly drops to the checkered tablecloth with a clatter.

He's here.

_Of course, he's here. He eats, doesn't he? It's mealtime, isn't it? Where else should he be?_

Ugh I'd like to stab my subconscious sometimes.

Like an insecure teenager I'm immediately hyperaware of my appearance – baggy sweatpants, a threadbare t-shirt knotted at my waist. I'd rolled out of bed late this morning without bothering to look in the mirror. If I'd known he'd…well I'd at least have put on jeans or ran a brush through my hair or - - - ok what the hell is wrong with me? This…this…this _boy_…he's been on the ranch for two minutes. We've had one brief interaction. And yet…there's…my stomach sometimes feels like it did when...

"Something wrong, Bella?" Esme whispers. "You've got a strange look on your face."

"Uh, no, no I'm fine."

"Ok, well, here, you can refill these water pitchers - - "

Before she can finish her thought I'm up the stairs and holding the pitchers under the tap in the kitchen where I can watch from a safe distance. The lunch line passes right under the open kitchen window. It's nearing the end and I can't help but hear snippets of various conversations being had at once; mostly job or weather related, until one stands out above the others.

"Goin' good, Cullen? ...Yeah, I know. First few days are always the hardest but you'll get used to it." It's Carlisle's friendly voice. But what does he mean? Has Edward been having trouble adjusting? Is he unhappy? My mind is so busy trying to fill in the blanks that I've stop paying attention to the faucet and the water pitcher has now overflowed all over me and the floor.

"_Shit_," I hiss, more pissed off that I missed Edward's answer than the fact that I'd just made a giant mess.

After I've sponged up the water and filled the other pitcher I dart back outside, hoping that I didn't waste too much time and that Edward will still be in the lunch line. When I arrive at the table Esme has just served the last of the potato salad and is beginning to close up the Tupperware containers. I also notice that there is a big shit-eating grin spread across her face. I follow its trajectory towards the picnic tables and find its exact equal in Carlisle staring back at her. _Ahhh those two sneaky lovebirds._

At 1pm I'm beginning the inevitable chore of clearing the picnic grounds of discarded napkins, plastic forks and paper plates that didn't make it into the trash bins when I notice Edward and Carlisle still sitting at one of the tables. Edward is wearing a blue flannel today with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows and darker jeans. _So he does have a change of clothes after all. _

They look deep in conversation; well, Carlisle seems to be doing the talking, Edward the listening.

"…Your job consists of mucking out the stables, feeding, and exercising the horses and corralling them in their stalls at night. What you do after that, on your own time, is none of my business but…"

"It won't happen again. I told you that already," he says curtly, not looking Carlisle in the eye.

"Edward-"

"Will that be all?"

I hear Carlisle let out a sigh of frustration. I wish I could see their faces but I'm pretending to lug garbage bags back to the house. The agitated sound of footsteps approaching from behind, a whoosh of air as he brushes by me and I'm watching Edward Cullen dissolve down the dirt path to the field where the new horses graze_. _He had to have seen me. He walked right by me. Shit, his arm practically touched mine. But he didn't say anything. Not a word, not an acknowledgement of my fucking existence. I didn't need a lengthy conversation. A hello would have sufficed. Shit, a head nod would have been better than downright ignoring me.

After lunch and with Edward a safe distance away, I took it upon myself to begin the process of oiling and polishing a few of the saddles that hung against the far wall of the stable. It was an easy mundane task that I learned when I was fourteen by hanging out with the stable boy's when I should have been inside doing my homework. When Carlisle started working at the ranch he installed these nifty hooks that could easily hold the weight of the saddles and keep them organized instead of them being left wherever they landed after they were taken off a horse. Each hook had the horse's name and stall number above it.

The stable has always made me nervous. Even when it's filled with activity, with people, with the horses themselves, it's a building that gives off a presence and a life force all it's own. Like the store from Stephen King's book _Needful Things_. It's not just four walls and a roof. In it's own very real way, it's alive. It breathes. It knows. It remembers.

And now, it's someone's home. Edward lives here. So this time when I open the door, it's different. It's eerily quiet. Sunlight streams in through the spaces between the wood slats. The flutter and flap of disturbed birds in the eaves fills the air. And up there, high in the rafters…the loft. With it's solitary square of a window. A window that faces my very own. If we were to look out of our respective windows at the same time, we'd be looking at each other. Don't think I haven't made excuses to attempt just that. But he was never there when I glided by.

The familiar smell of fresh straw and distant manure mixes with the scent of the sweat of men. The stable boys work here. Sam and Embry. And now Edward. But Sam and Embry sleep in the employee cabins. Edward sleeps here. I'm strangely comforted by that fact as I take in the surroundings that haven't changed in the least but that have now been touched and made new by an elusive stranger. I make my way to the wall where the saddles hang, forcing myself not to look up. I reach for Mollymae's saddle and attempt to bring it down, but it's forty-four pounds and I've forgotten just how heavy that is. It catches on the rigging and slips from my grip. Time stands still as I watch it speed down the wall towards me, frozen, powerless to stop it. All I can think about in those brief seconds is what my face is going to look like after they stitch it back together. How badly will those spurs disfigure the delicate bones of my skull?

But the saddle never reaches me. It's gone before I can register where it went. And then I hear his breath. I feel it at my neck. There's a crackle in the air that wasn't there before. And a thud of the saddle hitting the ground.

"What are you doing in here?" comes his voice from behind.

"I – I was going to polish the saddles."

"That's my job." He doesn't sound annoyed. He doesn't sound amused. He sounds…shaken.

"I know how to do it, too." I try to keep my voice steady. There's nothing I want more than to turn around and face him. "I just thought I'd help."

"And having the saddle smash into your face…would help _whom_ exactly? It certainly wouldn't help me." Sarcasm drips off every word. I'm partially annoyed at his tone, partially turned on by his backhanded way of showing concern.

"Fine. I'll leave."

"You can't leave without saying thank you," he whispers with the contained glee of an insolent child. "_Prep school."_

Huh? Where did that barb come from? Who told him I'd been home-schooled? And why the dig at my education? Hmm, feeling threatened, Mr. Cullen?

I spin to face him but oooh it's hard to keep my cool when he looks like the cover of _Darkness on the Edge of Town_. His lips are red and full. He's never been this close. I'm noticing all new things about his face - the light sprinkle of freckles dotting his perfect nose, the small cleft in his chin. It's a heady sensation and it's new to me. I need to find a way to get the ball back in my court. We're in a stand-off and I get the feeing he's not used to backing down. I take a deep breath and go for broke.

"Where on earth do you go at night, Edward _Anthony_?" I ask with syrupy sweet sarcasm.

And in an instant I know what it's like to snuff out a human candle, because his light is gone. The brightness of his face and the interest it had in mine has vanished, and I feel cold.

"Your eavesdropping is becoming a nasty habit, I_zzzz_abella. _Marie_, is it?" He steps closer and cages me to the wall with one strong arm. "I think it's time you and I got one very crucial item very crystal clear, hm?"

The thudding of my heart at the base of my heart must be audible. It's threatening to strangle me. I swallow it down and nod weakly for him to continue.

"I don't like answering questions. If there is something I _want_ you to know, I'll tell you. If not, consider it a topic _not_ up for discussion. Do we understand one another?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight**

* * *

Getting the laundry pinned on the line before 3pm in the summer months ensures dry clothes before the sun goes down. Esme's daughter Alice oversees all laundering that takes place on the Promised Land Ranch right down to each individual cloth napkin and including the most soiled of field hand undergarments. Those specialty items like my father's custom suits and other handmade fancy garments are sent to a family-owned dry cleaner off-site. Guests can request to have their items laundered and sent out as well. We serve all your needs here at The Promised Land.

After my, shall we say, _intense_ encounter with Edward in the stable the other day that ended with him storming out with a significant chip on his shoulder, I spent the next two days nursing my wounded ego by doing double shifts in the guest lodge with Heidi. The Mallory wedding is this weekend and without realizing it my role has somehow become that of reception supervisor. With Heidi being completely consumed with ceremony minutiae including but not limited to: seating arrangements for the ceremony, transportation, lodging for the pastor, deciding who's reciting what readings of which Bible verses and a million other mundane details, I have been morphed into Lauren Mallory's personal bridal assistant.

"I'm telling you, Alice, if that girl can find a man to commit to her for the rest of their miserable lives, then there is still hope for us." I dip my hand into the clothespin bag and pin the last of the kitchen aprons to the line.

"That bad, huh?" Alice giggles. A thin headband holds back her spiked pixie haircut as she balances the laundry basket on her thigh. She's wearing cut-offs and a tank top and a pair of my flip-flops.

I groan to exaggerate my disgust. "She's a horror. Needy, whiny, indecisive. For example, this morning I had to pick up her gigantic wedding gown from the tailor, bring it to her room, wait there while she took her sweet time changing into it and then sit in her boudoir and listen to her complain that it still needs to be taken in. She doesn't seem to comprehend the fact that she's NOT a size zero. Then there was the endless stream of complaints about everything from the shape of the tiara to the length of her train. And all of this before 9am."

"Tiara? Yikes. Isn't she getting married tomorrow?"

"Uh huh."

She shakes her head in disbelief and sighs, her cue that she's changing the subject.

"So…what's the deal with this new guy? Edward Cullen? Everyone's talking about him. Is he an ex-con or something? He's really cute. Oooh, do you think he, like, _killed _someone?"

"_Like_ killed someone_?_" I snort-laugh. Oh man is she my best friend or what.

"Don't start rumors, Al. I have no idea why he's here but I'm sure daddy wouldn't bring him here if he was a killer."

"Yeah but what if your dad doesn't _know_ he's a killer?"

I snort again and grab another clothespin. "You're so dramatic."

"I saw him helping you with the saddle the other day. That was sweet." She raises her eyebrow, indicating she means more. I won't let her rattle me even though there's a part of me that also wishes it meant more.

"Oh please. You read too many romance novels. He snarled at me and stalked off. I don't think he likes me. He isn't very nice."

"Well there's something up with him, definitely. Those quiet boys, there's _always_ something up with them."

"Why don't you go ask your boyfriend, Jasper?" I tease, knowing full well her face will instantly turn tomato red.

"Maybe because he's not my _boyfriend_, alright?" she answers meekly. If she could I bet she'd crawl into the laundry basket right now and hide forever. Her obsession with Jasper Hale is more serious than my curiosity for all things Edward Cullen. It's gone on for longer, that's for damn sure. The past two years have been nothing but an incessant stream of daily ear-splitting girly-whines that have included everything from, "_Bellaaaaa, he didn't even look at me when I walked by wearing those short-shorts," _to "_Belllaaaaaa, he doesn't even know I'm alive!"_

"Oh puh-leeeease not this again. How many times do I have to tell you that ignoring him and making it look like you're not interested is going to make him think _you're not interested_!" Hellooo, logic, have we met?

"Oh yeah? What happened to playing hard to get?" she whines. Ugh here we go.

"I never told you to play hard to get! I told you to corner him in the north field, rip his clothes off and mount him without his permission."

"Oh hardy-har-har, Bella, you think you're so funny. What would you know about ripping a boy's clothes off? For Christ sakes you're going to be eighteen and you're still a virg–"

Her voice catches in her throat and the color drains from her face.

"Oh bunny, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." She reaches out to touch my forearm but I slip out of her grasp and start balling up the rest of the clothes and flinging them back into the laundry basket. I toss the clothespins at her and storm off the porch before she can finish. Warm tears fill my eyes and I feel those pitiful cries trying to push their way out of my chest. Alice knows damn well how sensitive I am about my lack of experience in the boy-department. All of our sleepovers as little girls involved staying up til sunrise talking about- you guessed it – boys. By the time we were both fifteen she'd already had all her firsts. But she wasn't a slut – she'd been with two guys. Her first was a one-night stand just to get it over with and the second was a short-lived romance she had last summer with one of the delivery boys. I told her she did it just to make Jasper jealous, which apparently didn't work cuz he didn't show up bawling on her doorstep begging her to be with him like she expected.

_"You're fucking Don the delivery boy, Alice. What do you want Jasper to do?"_

_"Duh. I want him to fight for me."_

She wasn't kidding. That girl's expectations are HIGH.

I take off down the garden path with my head down and my arms crossed. I don't want anyone to see my crumpled face and red eyes.

"Bella? Bella! Hey, goofy girl! Where ya going?" Jasper calls out, jogging this way. I make a hard right and cut across the lawn.

"Bells! Are you crying? What's wrong?"

I skid to a stop and twirl around. The look on my face must be wild cuz Jasper freezes in place and doesn't come any closer.

"Why don't you ask _Miss_ _Mary Alice_?" I spit. "You know she wants you to. She'd love nothing better than to 'talk' to you all night long."

Confusion creases Jasper's smooth face. "What do you mean?"

"_What do I mean_?" I mock. "Ughh go figure it out, you stupid BOY!" I erupt with the force of Vesuvius. There's no stopping me now, I'm on a psycho roll where there is NO social filter. I'm so sick of boys and their…their…WAYS!

"You boys are so stupid, you know that! You don't see things that are right in front of your stupid faces!" I'm right in front of his stupid face right now digging my index finger into his stupid bony chest.

"We give you all these _clues_, all these damn _chances_. But noooo, you need it spelled out! You wouldn't know a clue if it ripped your shirt off and sat on your lap! Which, by the way, Alice is DYING to do!"

With that I stomp up the front porch and slam the screen door extra loud to let him know NOT to follow me.

It is sweltering in my room when I barge in and begin pacing circles around my four-poster bed. I switch on the ceiling fan and try to organize my thoughts.

_Damn Alice. Damn pretty perfect experienced Alice with her great butt and hazel eyes!_

_So maybe I overreacted a little. I shouldn't have stormed off like that. I shouldn't have snapped at Jasper. He didn't do anything wrong except be a stupid boy and hang out with Edward Cullen. _

_Maybe I'm oversensitive about still being a virgin._

_Fine! I'm very oversensitive about it. Back off!_

From my window I sulk and watch the horses being led out of the stable for exercise in the fields. One by one they emerge shiny and saddled and sharp.

Embry with Honky Tonk.

Sam with Elvis.

And then...Jasper arrives with the hay truck and begins backing it in through the entrance.

Huh? No there's more! Where's Edward? My fingers claw the windowsill. I press my nose to the glass and let my mind play tricks with me.

He's gone. Carlisle made it sound like he was unhappy. Maybe he couldn't stand it anymore. And me. I hadn't been very welcoming. I was curt, borderline rude. That whole saddle incident…ugh, I had pried into his personal affairs. I'd insulted him. I had no right to ask him what I did. I should have apologized and if I ever get the chance, I will.

I open my bedroom window and am about to call down to Jasper to casually apologize for being an ass when…here they come…

_Edward with Mollymae...and with Beau._

I would breath a sigh of relief if I could. If my breath wasn't already trapped in my chest at the sight of him. With his sleeves rolled up his toned arms he leads them towards the trails like the damn pied piper. Sam and Embry use halters and snap leads but all Edward has to do is walk and whistle and they follow. They're following him. He walks with his hands tucked into his back pockets and those huge animals follow behind him in a row like little ducks, playfully nipping at his elbows, pushing between his shoulder blades with their snouts to get his attention.

And then a sound I've never heard before rises up to meet me. It's gentle but it cuts me in half. Mollymae has the hem of Edward's shirt in her teeth...and he's _giggling_ at her, talking to her and it's a song. I try to conceal myself behind the curtain as I watch him kicking up dust with the heels of his boots. He's almost out of sight but he turns to scratch Beau behind the ears and I catch his eye. He squints into the sun and puts his hand to his forehead to block the light.

_Oh god. Busted again? Kill me now._

He stares for several seconds before his face breaks out into an all too familiar grin. He's not angry that he caught me spying. On the contrary he appears happy. Content. Without warning I involuntarily raise my hand to wave at him. Hello. He raises his hand and waves back.

…

My blush is my finest accessory. I wear it with pride. The way he looked up at me in awe, like kneeling before a statue. Perhaps I misjudged him after all.

I'm jolted out my daydream by Heidi's incessant chattering.

"What are you wearing tomorrow?"

"Huh?"

"The Mallory wedding? The event we've been working on for six months? What are you going to wear?"

"Oh uh, I hadn't thought about it."

Heidi buzzes around me like a busy honeybee feasting on nectar as she arranges the vases on the tables. "I was going to wear my violet silk suit with the cute blazer but it's practically the same shade as these hideous floral arrangements. Although maybe it's not such a bad idea," she chuckles. "I can blend into the background."

"Do we have to get dressed up?"

"Well I would think so. We've been invited to the party and we each get a plus one."

"A what?"

"A date. You can bring someone. Mr. Mallory said that you and I both get plus one's."

"Oh." Great. A date. Just what I was hoping I'd have to find. "So who are you taking?"

"I might ask Riley Beers. I've been dying to get to know him better," she winks.

Riley runs the feed stores. He's beyond handsome. The only problem is he knows it.

...

After my shift at the lodge I take the long way home and make my way down the north field path. Maybe it's because I know Jasper will be out this evening and maybe I'm feeling a pang of guilt about the way I spoke to him earlier in the day.

Welp, I'm right cuz there he is, blonde and tan and leaning against the fence talking to…..ah shit, really? He's talking to Edward Cullen? I should have freaking known. My face burns but it's too late to turn back now. They've seen me, so I stroll over, glad that I'm wearing skinny jeans and a fitted tank.

Since I was the one who stormed off, I make the first move. Edward is looking deadly, per usual, so I try to keep him in my peripheral.

"It's almost dinnertime," I state lamely.

"Yeah we'll be heading in soon," Jasper replies. "Just showing Edward how to goof off out here." He leans in with a grin that is an attempt at reconciliation. "Don't tell your dad, y'here, goofy-girl?"

"Yeah yeah I won't say anything, _slacker_," I kid back.

"So whatcha doing out in these parts? You don't need to come this far out to get home from the lodge."

"I was, uh, I wanted to ask you something," I stumble. I can feel Edward's curiosity. His eyes on me. Everywhere. Trailing all over my body. He's leaning against the post, feigning interest, like there's a million other places he'd rather be, and yet he's here.

"The Mallory wedding is tomorrow," I continue. "And…uh, Heidi just told me that I get a plus one. It's not much notice, but-"

"What's a plus one?"

"It means I get to bring a date. For being Lauren's bitch all day I get to bring a date to the reception and act like an actual invited guest." I hear Edward snicker and I feel the blush creep up my neck.

"Are you asking me to be your date?"

"I didn't know who else to ask," I shrug.

"Geez, I'm flattered."

"Stoppit Jazz, you know you're my best guy friend. Who else am I going to ask? Anyways, it'll be fun. Open bar, live music, dancing, stuffing our faces."

It really will be fun. Eating, drinking, dancing with Jasper. At least I'll get to enjoy some of the fruits of my labor. All the planning and confirming and double-checking and Lauren Mallory and her fucking tiara. I plan on helping myself to more than a couple glasses of the finest champagne Mallory money can buy.

"Well, shit Bells," Jasper fidgets, and I get the feeling I'm about to be rejected. "You know I'd go with you in a heartbeat, but I just asked Alice if she wanted to do something tomorrow night. After you said what you said I found her on the porch and we finally talked and said all the things we…and she…and I…well, I asked her if -"

"You asked her on a date."

"I did."

"And she said yes."

"She did."

"Your first date."

"Yes."

"Tomorrow."

"Yes."

"I've never seen you like this before, Jazz. I'm happy for you. It's about time you grew some hair on your balls."

More snickering from Edward.

"I'm sorry, Bell. "

"Oh please. Don't be. I'm sick of listening to her pine over you. It's good. I'm glad. I mean it. Have a great time."

"Thanks, Bella. You'll have fun tomorrow night. It'll be a great party. I know how hard you worked on it. Hey, maybe you could ask Emmett."

"Can't. He's visiting his girlfriend."

"I'll go."

My head whips around at the sound of Edward's voice. His eyes are bright and dazzling and dancing across my face. I wonder what he's smirking at when I realize it's my mouth hanging open.

"Sorry?"

"Hey that's a great idea!" Jasper exclaims. "Bella, you can go with Edward."

"I dunno, uhm…"

Edward turns away and looks off towards the horizon. "Forget it. It was a stupid thing to say."

"No, I think it's a great idea, don't you Bells?"

"I…"

"I said forget it. I don't have anything to wear. I was just joking."

"You can borrow something of mine, it's no problem. Right, Bells? It'll be fun."

"Uh…yeah. Yes. Yes, it will be fun," I smile sincerely. What the hell. "Edward, the reception starts at seven. "

"I'll pick you up at six-thirty? On the porch."

_What am I doing what am I doing? _

"Ok."

"See you then, Miss Swan. Six-thirty."

"Six-thirty. Yes. See you then."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I hope you're enjoying the ride so far! For those of you who don't know my writing, I tend to get off to a slow-ish start, draw things out a bit in the beginning. I feel it's more fun that way. Most of the time real life isn't "you meet, you f*ck." It's more like,"you meet, a bunch of sh*t happens, you mess up, etcetc..." **

**Oh and a few people wanted to know the time period we're in. It's present day. I know it feels like it could be another time but that's just the nature of living in an isolated area. There's televisions and newspapers, everyone's aware of current events and pop culture. It's not like "The Village" or anything lol. We have these ranch-y resort-ish type places near where I live so I'm drawing on that and exaggerating a little, like I do.**

**love to all!**

* * *

**_6:10pm_**

I pick up the Mason Pearson brush that once belonged to my mother and gently glide it through my freshly blown-out hair.

_Okay let's try this again._

"Step one, brush all your hair to one side."

Long brown locks cascade over my bare shoulder all shiny and knot-free.

"Step two, fasten grips or pins at the back of your hair to hold it in place."

With two in my hand I stick three bobby pins between my teeth and begin to pin.

"Apply hairspray all over your hair." Easy enough. My room is already floating inside a mushroom cloud of toxic L'Oreal Paris. What's another can?

This is the fourth time I've tried to get this damn French Twist to look like the picture instead of a twisted croissant growing out of the back of my head. Each time I've gotten as far as the hairspray step in the directions without a problem.

But that damn step four.

"Lightly grasp the hair in one hand …" I stare into the mirror with every ounce of concentration I can muster. "_C'mon, Bella. You can do this."_

I lightly grasp the hair in one hand.

_Easy, easy now. Slow movements. _

"And with the other, wrap it underneath, around and over your fingers or thumb…"

_Ok, ok, calm, easy, wrap it around._

"Make sure to twist the hair… in the direction… opposite the one… you originally brushed it in…"

_Fucking huh?_

"Oh forget it! This is impossible! I can't do it!" I screech in frustration at my ineptness to do anything feminine.

Fan-tastic.

Brush flung, bobby pins scattered, hair looking like I just drove for three hours in a convertible.

My room looks like a tsunami hit it. Ever drawer in my bureau is hanging open. My closet doors are flung open. There's all of two hangers in there that still have clothes hanging on them. The rest have been ripped off, tried on, and discarded on the floor or on the bed or on the desk chair.

I can't do this. I can't get ready for this…this _date_. That's what it is, right? What do I know about going on a date? I've never been on one. Never been picked up on my doorstep by a magnificent boy holding flowers for me. Never been returned past my curfew to hold hands with him and awkwardly stand in the doorway waiting for him to kiss me. I've never been kissed. Never been touched. At least not in _that_ way. Not in the way of desire and want and all the things I've seen on TV and in movies. The things I've heard my friends talk about in between giggles and looks over their shoulders and oh my god I have no idea what they're talking about but I love boys and I love their bodies and I think about them all the time. I think about_ it_ all the time –

"Bella?"

Holy shit!

"Uh, yeah?" I call out to the voice on the other side of my bedroom door. "Come in."

Oh it's Alice! Oh thank god! Finally, a girl who knows about all things girly. I want to run to her and leap into her arms and exclaim, _Let's forget about the other day when you reminded me just how big of a ball of inexperience I am. I don't care anymore. I've got much bigger problems. I have a date in twenty minutes. Now help me fix my hair!_

Luckily she speaks first.

"Honey I wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. It was wrong and lowdown and you have every right to…Wow, you look amazing."

"I do?" I've been too preoccupied with the bird's nest on my head to think about what I was wearing. After ransacking my wardrobe I finally decided on a light blue strapless gauzy number that fell to just above my knees. It fits perfectly at the waist and chest and I have the perfect pair of strappy flats to wear with it.

"But what the hell happened to your hair?" she asks, horrified.

I hand her the crumpled French Twist instructions I've printed off the internet and give her my most pitiful frowny face.

"Fix me," I plead.

With a smile she sits me down in front of the mirror and gets to work.

"So, Edward Cullen, hm?" she hums after a few moments of silence. "What happened to 'I don't think he likes me very much'? ...And I heard _he _was the one to offer his assistance?"

"Only cuz Jazz was busy. Busy doing what, I wonder? Oh that's right. Busy doing YOU."

"Don't change the subject."

"Don't dodge the question."

"You didn't ask a question."

"Oh come off it Alice, don't play coy now. Not after two years of reciting how your name would sound with Hale at the end of it. _Mrs. Hale_. _Mrs. Alice Hale. Mr. and Mrs. Jasper Hale_. Gross." I stick out my tongue. She rolls her eyes and ignores me.

"Anyway, are you going to ask him?"

"Ask him what?"

"Ask him why he's here? Ask him what he _did?_"

"Alice!" I squeal. "You're pulling my hair really hard!"

"Sorry."

"And no, I'm not asking anything about his personal business. I barely brought it up as a joke last time and he practically took my head off. He obviously doesn't want to talk about himself."

"That's what makes it so much more interesting! Who doesn't like to talk about themselves? People with something to hide, that's who!"

She sticks in the last bobby pin, gives me another shot of hairspray and takes a step back.

"There now. Oh look at you. My precious Bella about to go on her very first date with a handsome mysterious stranger."

I swivel from side to side to admire Alice's handiwork and daaaaamn. Girl done gooood. And in no time. A soft sprig of bangs frame the sides of my face and she incorporated a jeweled hair comb into the twist to hold everything in place and to add just the right amount of bling.

"Wow. Alice, I don't know what to say." My stomach is a French twist made of butterflies.

"Say, Alice do my makeup."

…

"OK." Alice closes the bedroom door and crosses to the vanity table where I'm currently sitting, frozen. She puts her warm hands on my shoulders and leans in.

"He's waiting downstairs, honey."

"Kay."

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

"You ok?"

"Uh huh."

"You look beautiful," she sings. "He's gonna die when he sees you."

"Thanks."

"Feeling sick?"

"A little."

"It's just nerves. They'll go away as soon as you see him. Are you going to stand up so I can look at you?"

She holds out her hands, small and delicate, and it makes me want to cry. Slowly, I stand and let myself be pulled into her arms.

"Thank you, Alice," I mumble into her shoulder. "For being there for me. For this. I mean, for being here for this for me and…you know what I mean."

"Of course I do, sweetie. Now don't you dare start crying and ruin your makeup. Those are some of the best smokey eyes I've ever created if I do say so myself. Edward's going to die when he sees."

"You said that already," I sniff. "Anyway I'm sure he's seen a million beautiful women… women that are way better than me…wearing way less than me..."

"Ok Bella that's enough. Look at me. Stop that kind of talk. I mean it. Right now. Stop putting yourself down and laughing it off as a joke. It's not a joke. _You _are not a joke. You never were and you're not now."

She positions me in front of the full-length mirror and steps away, leaving me to look at myself, to really see myself in a way I never have before.

"Look at that girl in the mirror. Look at her and tell me she's a joke and mean it when you say it. …You can't, can you? Because you know it's not true. You are stunning, Isabella Swan. Inside and out. And if he can't see that, then you're doing him a favor."

She smiles and strokes my cheek and even if Edward Cullen doesn't look at me all night, the way Alice is looking at me right now is worth everything.

"So," she grins. "You wanna know how _he_ looks?"

I shrug and try to appear disinterested but have an immediate change of heart.

"Lemme guess…tall?"

"Yes."

"Pressed?"

"Yup."

"Sleek? Slick? Seductive?"

"Yes, yes, and ohhh HELL YES."

She's absolutely twitching now.

"I knew it. He's perfect, isn't he?"

"Doubtful. I'm sure he's an absolute train wreck," she laughs. "But he looks like an Adonis. Like, really? His body? Wow. I saw him wielding a pick-axe yesterday all sweaty and grimy and every time he slammed it down he made this low grunting sound –"

"Alice!" I bleat, my heart racing, my palms clammy. "How is this helping? You're supposed to be keeping me calm!"

"Well, while you keep calm you're keeping your date waiting," she scolds. "Now get down there, relax, and have a good time."

…

With a final step I reach the bottom of the stairs to find him standing with his back to me, his hands in his pockets looking out the window towards the horizon. The sun is setting, casting blinding steaks of orange light and stretching Edward's magnificent shadow across the living room floor.

Alice was right.

He takes my breath away.

This is my private moment.

_Where are you wishing you were, Edward Cullen? What's out there beyond the hills?_ _What are you hoping to find?_

I exhale and he turns. His face is flawless. Clean shaven and with a slight smile he politely greets me.

"Isabella."

"Edward."

Slowly he approaches. The heels of his shoes click against the hardwood floor.

"You look beautiful." Is that a slight tremor in his voice?

"Thank you. You look…really nice."

He smiles brighter. Did he almost laugh? My heart skips a beat. _Why oh why are you doing this, Edward Anthony? I have no idea. But I'm glad that you are._

"Are you ready to go?"

I nod. He takes a step back and motions towards the door. We walk to it in single file. No sound except our movements and I'm quaking inside. There's something about his presence, something intense and raw, frightening and exhilarating. Something like passion.

He holds the door open and when I pass through that's when I smell him smelling nothing like a stable boy and everything like a grown man who's showered and shaved and put some sort of product in his hair in attempt to smooth it down. The faint whiff of his cologne. Lightly sprayed on his neck and clothes. Just enough to make it necessary for me to be close to him in order to smell it.

He's done his hair. He's wearing a tie - a light blue tie against a white shirt and a light grey suit. Did he know what I was going to wear? Because we match perfectly.

On the porch his hand finds my wrist and he stops me.

"I brought you something."

I don't think he's ever touched me before. Since when does touching cause you to go deaf? Because that's what's just happened. His mouth is moving – and oh it's a fine mouth – but there's nothing but a shrill wind between my ears. The tips of his fingers trace the insides of my wrists and then grasp them. How can hands be rough and smooth at the same time? He opens my palm and places something cold inside.

"I thought it was better than flowers. Something different than you're used to getting. There's flowers everywhere you look around here," he chuckles, his eyes quickly scanning over the blooming gardens of the front yard.

Huh? Is he still talking? Is this what swooning is? I'm swaying a bit. My heart's racing. I feel sort of swoon-y. Has he somehow managed to drug me?

"Isabella?" His face has creased with concern. _Uh-oh. I must look weird. Snap out of it, Bella_.

I look down into my hand. Nestled inside it is…hmmm…it's small and silver and makes a sound when it jiggles. It's a...hmm…it's…

"It's a bell," Edward whispers.

"Oh," I reply brilliantly. "Thank you."

He smiles and takes it out of my hand. It's on a thin silver chain that he attaches around my wrist.

_Ohhhhhhh. _

"It's a bracelet," I mumble. _Duh, Bella. Just, duh._

"Yeah," he breathes. "You like it?"

Like it? I can't take my eyes off it. It rings sweetly when I move. The light shines off it - _the way the light shines off Edward's hair and the way it shines in Edward's eyes –_

"Yes. I like it. Very much."

"I'm glad." _- and in the light of his smile._

We set off in the direction of the lodge. It's a long walk but I say nothing. I don't bring up the fact that we can get a ride from pretty much anyone. I like the walk. I like the walk even more with Edward at my side. The sound of our shoes crunching in the gravel echoes around us. _CRUNCH crunch CRUNCH crunch._

It's warm out. The sun is beginning it's decent into the horizon. The trees sway and dance in the light evening breeze. The smell of freshly mown grass fills the air. Somewhere there's music and a bee buzzing near my ear and the tinkling sound of the delicate bell hanging around my wrist.

_Better than flowers._

"You're very quiet."

I look at him. He's looking at me. "What am I supposed to say? I'm not allowed to ask you any questions, remember?"

He pulls at the collar of his shirt. "Yeah, about that. I, uh…" He flattens his hand down the length of his tie.

"I was having a bad day. I shouldn't have…" He fidgets some more like a snake trying to shed his skin. He's clearly uncomfortable in what he's wearing even though he's wearing it like a supermodel. "…y'know."

"Does that mean I _can_ ask you questions then?"

He's quiet, mulling it over. I stumble on the dirt path and he catches me by the elbow. The bracelet jingles.

"Jesus will you watch where you're going," he hisses. He sounds mad but there's worry in his green eyes.

"I'm fine. I walk this way all the time. Without you." I give him my best smirk and continue trotting on down the path. He catches up and we're back in our rhythm. _Crunch crunch Crunch crunch._

"You can."

"I can what?" I ask curtly.

"You can ask me questions."

"Are you going to answer them?"

"Maybe," he says with a sly smile and I need to stop looking at him instead of looking straight ahead or I will trip again and I don't want to give him the satisfaction. Although I would let him catch me.

"Why were you having a bad day? That day…in the stable." My face heats just mentioning it.

He doesn't answer and I stop walking.

"Hey come on, that's an easy one," I insist, but I realize he's not answering because he's too busy checking out my legs. When he catches me catching him I want to believe more than anything that he's embarrassed, but he doesn't flinch.

"I was having a bad day because…just because, I don't know," he chuckles and shakes his head. "I shovel horse shit all day and lug crates and take orders from everyone and when I'm finished I get to sleep in a barn. It got to me that day, that's all."

"So why do you do it?"

"It's my job."

"There are other jobs."

"Yeah well this one's mine." His jaw clenches. He's done staring at me and we're back to walking in silence.

"You can ask me questions, too. If you want. I doubt I'll have very interesting answers but you're welcome to ask."

"Ok."

"_Ok_?" I mimic incredulously. "That's all you have to say? O. K.? What's with you?"

"Nothing, what's with _you_?"

"Nothing's _with_ me! Geez. I'm just trying to make conversation. Unless you're fine walking in this awkward silence."

"Walking with you is anything but awkward for me, Isabella."

"Bella."

"Walking with you is anything but awkward for me, _Bella_."

"Sorry. ...I guess I chatter when I'm nervous."

"I noticed."

We round the corner and the lodge comes into view. It's a spectacular sight and for some reason it makes me think of something.

"I'm not used to getting flowers, y'know."

He gives me a new look – a quizzical schoolboy look. It's unfair. _He_ is unfair.

"When you gave me the bracelet you said it's better than flowers. Better than what I'm used to getting. …I'm not used to getting flowers."

Why I'm admitting this to him, I have no idea. I want to know him. I want him to know me. I want to know if he would like to know me better, and I can't think of any other way to tell him that. So, here Edward, here is a useless random fact about me. Do with it what you will.

He's still for a moment, once again staring off at the horizon and mulling something over in that mysterious mind of his.

"Hmm." He smiles and then looks at me. "That's a shame."

...

The lodge is lit up like Christmas in Times Square on the surface of the sun. Twinkling lights twinkle on every limb of every tree in creation. They're blinding and strung around every window frame and door. It looks like the God of All Balloons barfed all over everything and then put hideous flower arrangements on top of everything it missed.

And yet, something about being here makes my heart race.

Edward places his hand on the small of my back and guides me into the lobby.

From within the throng of people waiting to get inside the dining room where cocktail hour is being held I see Heidi flagging me down. She's making her way towards me – arm up, big smile on her face. And why not? Is that…Riley Beers I see standing next to her? Is he wearing a _tux_?

"Bella! Over here!"

The waitstaff has begun exiting the kitchen with the appetizer trays. The guests move slowly like cattle after them. From inside the reception hall I hear the band (that I helped choose after sitting through three dozen auditions, btw) playing the arrival music.

Heidi finally reaches me and instantly gives me a hug.

"It's so good to see you. This is so stressful."

"How was the ceremony?"

"Off without a hitch," she sighs. "Hey you wanna get in on the over/under pool? Ten bucks a person. The pot is up to almost three-hundred. I say more than two years, less than five. She's a demon, that woman, but she's got a great bod."

"Haha I don't think I can be so generous. I'm the one who had to help her try on pantyhose for four hours, remember? Year and a half, max." We fall into a fit of giggles.

"Hey, Cullen," comes Riley's voice from behind Heidi.

"Beers," comes Edward's voice from behind me. The crowd is beginning to dissipate.

"Bella, you look so pretty," Heidi coos.

"Thanks, so do you."

"Your hair, wow. And that dress. I don't think I've ever seen you look like this."

I force a laugh, uncomfortable with the attention she's giving me, especially with Edward right there to hear her gushing. I feel his eyes on me everywhere hers aren't.

"Come on," she says. "I'll show you where you're sitting."

…

...

"I only have one question for you. Who is your date and where can I get one?"

"That's two questions," I giggle as I tape shut the last box of extra party favors and stack it with the others. The reception hall is in full-on Electric Slide dance mode which means I am a safe distance away, in the lobby hiding behind the reception desk.

"He's Edward Cullen."

"The stable boy? _That's_ him? Yowza."

"I know, right?"

"Where is he now?"

"Getting a beer. Sam Uley is here so I told him to mingle."

"I think he'd much rather be where you are."

"What do you mean?"

Heidi flops a stack of papers on the desk with a huff and rolls her eyes at me. "Bella, what are you doing out here?"

"Huh? I'm helping you clean up."

"I don't need your help, sweetie. You're avoiding him."

"No I'm not."

"Oh yes you are. That gorgeous man just spent the entire cocktail hour following you around the buffet table. He's got it bad."

"He doesn't even know me. That's what's so weird about being here with him. I don't know how to act around him. I turn into this complete moron. He's so…so…"

"Oh you don't have to tell me, honey, I understand."

"There's something about him that draws me in and puts me on my guard at the same time."

"Fine, I get what you're saying but after all that he's still just a boy on the inside. And boys aren't really all that scary. Actually they're bigger scaredy-cats than us girls are. They just do a better job hiding it. So can you please stop standing out here and go inside with him. You look gorgeous tonight and you're wasting it on me."

I re-renter the ballroom to find Edward leaning against the bar sipping a Heineken and giving Riley Beers the stink eye. His gaze fixes on me the moment I enter his field of vision and it lures me in. My face heats as I blatantly check him out. His body is long and lean and fits perfectly under his snug suit, narrow waist, my god I'm drooling...

"Dinner's served soon," I say with desperation. "What did you order?"

He drains his beer and places it on the bar before he answers. "The steak, I think. You?" His face contorts into a sneer and I wonder if what I said pissed him off somehow, until I hear...

"Yo, Cullen, grab me a Bud, willya?" It's Riley striding off the dancefloor, sweaty, his tuxedo tie undone, clearly drunk.

"Grab it your_fucking_self, Beers," Edward snarls in aloof dismissal. "What am I, your fucking date?"

"Easy tiger," Riley jokes, motioning to the bartender for his drink. "Speaking of dates. You scored the grandest one of all, eh? ...Miss Swan, I don't think I had the pleasure of saying hello to you this evening." He leans in far too close and it's gross.

"You're drunk, Riley," I say, backing away. His breath is dreadful.

"Ohhh what are you gonna do, tell your daddy on me?" He stalks closer and I step away again.

"Back off, asshole." Edward stands between us and his impressive height is apparent, dwarfing Riley and towering over me.

"Chill out, Cullen," Riley snorts but it's evident that he's shaken. "She's with you, I get it. Pee on her, why dontcha..." He sulks off and I exhale. What the hell was that testosterone-fest? Edward's hand finds the back of his neck and I see his chest expand to take a deep breath. He gives me a weak shrug and there he goes with that innocent schoolboy look again.

"Soooo, you don't like Riley Beers?" I pretend to ask sincerely. His face breaks out into a mile-wide grin and he starts to laugh. Like, _really_ laugh. Oh thank you lord he's laughing. I'm funny. It's glorious.

"He doesn't need me to like him. He likes himself enough for all of us. Can I get you a drink? ...Oh wait, you're underage."

"And how old are you?"

"I'll be twenty-two."

"Next week."

"That's right. You remembered."

My cheeks heat. Even in this dim lighting I know he can see.

"You really do look beautiful tonight, Isabella. _Bella_. I hope I didn't put you on the spot by offering to come with you tonight."

"Not at all. I'm glad you did. Are you having fun?"

He cocks his head to the side and thinks it over before answering. "At times."

I can't help but laugh a little at his honesty, no matter how vague. "I haven't known you that long, Edward Cullen, but I've learned something about you already."

"Oh yeah?" he perks up. "And what's that?"

"You take your time."

Hie eyebrows raise in genuine surprise. "That's not what I was expecting you to say. But, sure, I suppose I take my time when something's worth saying or doing right."

The chipper band leader butts in, announcing that dinner is being served, and our little moment is lost.

* * *

**K this chapter is getting a little long and there's lots more so I'm cutting it here and will return with Pt 2. Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

Edward Cullen chews really, _really_ slow. Or it could just be my mind slowing down my entire life so I can fully process the fact that I am knee to knee sitting next to _maaaaybe_ one of the most gorgeous creatures I've ever seen as he slices into a rare filet mignon, popping the moist pieces of meat into his open mouth, sucking in the juices, closing his teeth around the tender flesh.

_I have some tender flesh. Do I ever._

"Do you not like the salmon?"

_Pardon? Salmon swim upstream…_

"Bella?"

_Oh right. Words. Respond, Bella._

"Um. Pardon?"

"You don't like it? Your meal? You're not eating."

"Oh, uh, no I do, it's great." I smile and push the mashed potatoes around the decorative ceramic plate. "Little, uh, fatty…but… and your steak? Good?"

"Mmhmm. It's a nice treat." He smiles sincerely and takes another rare bite. Lordy lord…I just _can't_ with this boy.

"Yeah you don't get food like this at shift mealtimes, do ya?" I laugh awkwardly. It's meant as a joke but it comes out kinda cringeworthy. _Yes, remember, Edward, you are a lowly stable boy and I am Isabella Swan, Queen of the Manor._ Ugh kill me now.

But Edward lets me off the hook most gentleman-like, taking a sip from his full glass of table wine. "Esme's food is really good. She makes simple things like ham sandwiches and pasta salad taste like they came from a high-class restaurant. It doesn't need to be overpriced Kobe beef to fill a hungry man's belly."

"Welllll, I help her in the kitchen a lot so I think _I_ deserve some of the credit."

"Is that right? Well then allow me to give you my sincerest compliments on behalf of all of your outside staff." He winks and cuts into another bite and pushes my plate closer.

"Eat something, Bella."

I acquiesce and shove a huge chunk of salmon into my face. Mmmmf it's delish.

"So," I begin with my mouth full. "If you weren't here…with me…tonight…what would you be doing right now?"

"Hmm, let's see." He checks his wrist. There's a watch on it that I hadn't noticed before. "It's eight-thirty. I'd be in the stable, reading probably."

"Reading?"

"Yes, Miss Swan. Your lowly stable hand knows how to read all the letters."

"I'm sorry, that's not how I wanted it to sound. I'm, uh, just…what do you read?"

"At the moment I'm reading Ulysses. …James Joyce?"

"I know who wrote Ulysses. ...I have a lot of books…I could lend you some if…"

"Sure. Once I'm finished with Ulysses I'd love to read something of your choosing."

That's it. I start to laugh and laugh BIG.

"I don't understand you, Edward Cullen _mystery-man_," I hiccup-snort and giggle and hiccup again. Okay it is clear I shouldn't have had that third glass of wine.

"You're all tough and Mister_ I don't want to hurt you, stop eavesdropping_ all intimidating one minute and then Mister suave _oh I read James Joyce and I'm fuck-off to die for in a suit and look at how I sexily chew my food and_…" I burp up a nasty sludge of white wine and uncomfortably swallow it back down. Perhaps I should have eaten something after all.

"Oh my god," I belch into my hand. "This is embarrassing. Feel free to head for the hills."

He grins. He's absolutely loving this. Loving watching me twist into knots. I think how I might do just about anything if it meant he'd keep looking at me.

"Why would I do that? You haven't danced with me yet."

Dancing. Right. That's probably #5,557 on the list of things I like to do. But when Edward pushes out his chair, stands up tall and holds out his hand, it's difficult to say no. It's difficult to say pretty much anything. So I take his hand and let him lead me.

...

"And then when he dipped you? Oh man the look on your face! Priceless!"

Heidi has not stopped teasing me for the last fifteen minutes. She's truly enjoying having a laugh at my expense. We're once again in the lobby helping some of the elderly guests with their coats while the party heats up in the ballroom. The band has gone from playing Frank Sinatra to something that sounds like Frank Zappa, but the cake-cutting and garter-belting went off without any casualties so I'd say things are going according to plan. If only I can last long enough to collect Mr. Mallory's final check payment.

"I think I did a decent job, thank you very much. At least I didn't trip and face plant on the dance floor."

"I'm not saying you did a bad job at all. In fact, quite the opposite. You looked great. Both of you. You looked really great out there. …Has Edward had dance lessons?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"No reason. Just that it looked like he knew what he was doing out there, that's all."

Ohhhh did he ever. Looked great, smelled great, moved like Michael-freaking-Jackson. The way he guided me across the dancefloor with ease and grace. One dance turned into three and maybe more if the band hadn't taken a break. Dammit. I was actually having a good time at Lauren Mallory's stuffy wedding. And by the look on his face as he held me in his arms, so was Edward. Fun. We were having alot of fun.

A commotion commands our attention. Leah comes running in from the terrace with a look of panic on her face.

"Heidi! Bella!" She nearly tumbles to the floor in an attempt to reach us.

"Leah, honey, what's wrong? Calm down, you're making a scene." Heidi pulls her behind the counter. Guests, the elderly ones turning in for the night, are gawking. With a big phony smile I turn on the charm and quickly lead them by the crook of their arms out the front door.

"Fight," Leah whispers. "There's going to be a fight out back any second. Goddamn Mike Newton is drunk and belligerent and his friends from the grounds crew are all circled around this one guy." She turns to me with an ashen face and wide eyes. "The guy you came here with. What's his name? Tall, handsome?"

"Edward?" I'd only just left his side fifteen minutes ago to use the restroom and to check in with Heidi. He'd been in fine spirits. We were laughing about something stupid. He'd gone to get a beer. He'd found Sam and they were going outside for a smoke.

I race through the lobby and into the ballroom, quickly scanning the crowd for the top of Edward's head. No sign. The dancefloor is packed with people doing the Macarena. I fling open a set of double doors leading out into the night air. My eyes are forced to adjust to twinkly lights and Tiki torches. I want to call out his name but there are people out here milling around with cocktails in their hands admiring the shrubbery shaped like Edward Scissorhands creations.

And then I hear it. The muffled sounds of squabbling. Tension-filled voices rising and falling. Aggression. Men.

I turn the corner to find Sam holding Edward back by the arms. Someone's helping Mike Newton up from the ground.

"Not now, Edward, not now!" Sam snarls into Edward's ear.

"Get him outta here!" Newton whines, holding his jaw.

"You got something to fucking add, Newton? Had enough?" Edward gnashes. He looks like a feral animal. His perfect hair now wild. His cheeks red. And then our eyes meet. He looks through me. There's blood on his lip, a gash above his right eye, his once happy face now contorted with rage.

"Get off me!" he roars and wrestles out of Sam's hold. "I said I'm going."

"Edward?" I beg of him. _Don't do this. Don't ruin this night, our time together._

"What the hell happened?" I hiss at Mike standing there like a prick in his light blue leisure suit and his swelling jaw.

"We were just talking," he answers in that smug squirrely way of his. Only one of the many reasons I've ignored his attempts to hit on me over the years.

"Talking?" I mock. "Right. Talking isn't one of your strong points, is it?" I'm so done with him. I turn my attention to Edward who's being lead away by Sam.

"Edward, wait. I'll come with you." I tug on his arm. "Stop walking, dammit. Stop walking away from me."

But he doesn't. It's all eerily quiet now. The calm of the night and a starless sky. It's an effort to keep up with him.

"Will you at least answer me? Edward!"

"I'll see you around, Bella."

The night swallows him, whisking him away, and I'm left in the garden next to a bush shaped like a hedgehog.

Terrific.

...

"I'll drive you back to the house, Miss Swan. You shouldn't be walking in the dark alone."

The last of the hardcore party stragglers have stumbled back to their hotel rooms or have taken cabs to hotels in town. The band has been paid, the night clean-up crew is nearly done sweeping and piling the tables and chairs. Heidi and Riley are "talking" in the walk-in cooler and I'm about to call it a looooong weird night.

"It's alright, Sam. I know the way. There's plenty of moonlight. ...Hey don't you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Oh you know damn well like what. Like I've been stood up. I'm fine. It's fine. I don't even know him. He can do whatever he wants. He doesn't owe me anything."

"Except respect. ...I'm sorry, Miss Swan, it's not my place."

"It's ok, Sam. You're right. What's his deal anyway?"

"Just rumors. He doesn't say much, so it's all rumors. Guys can gossip just as much as girls."

"What are they saying?"

"Everything from Edward Cullen serial killer to Edward Cullen undercover NARC."

Laughter bubbles up uncontrollably at the mental picture of Edward Cullen "Undercover NARC Officer Extraordinaire". Top Gun sunglasses, slicked back greaseball hair. Yeeeeeah, still hot.

I swear I can still catch whiffs of his scent on the trail leading back to the house. There's a stone in my sandal. The French twist has de-Frenched and un-twisted long ago, leaving my hair bedraggled and hanging down my back in sweaty ropes. A shower. I cannot wait to peel this dress off and stand under the hot spray. Wash this evening down the drain. Crawl into bed and wonder if it all actually happened.

The employee cabins come into view and I know the stable will soon be next. Almost home. Keep walking. Don't look. Don't wonder if he's inside. Don't look for a light from the topmost window. Don't look for a light. Don't look. There's no light. Why isn't there a light? The stable is dark. How can he see in the dark? Maybe he's already asleep. Or maybe he hasn't come back. Did he not come back? Is he still out walking in the night? Is he lost? Maybe I should just check. No harm in checking. Anyone would check. I mean, right?

There's no low-key way to push open the massive stable door with its creaking cracked wood and rusted hinges. It's heavy. It doesn't lock. It requires the entire weight of my body heaving against it to make it budge. But my shoulder holds.

Moonlight spills inside. Low whinnying comes from the stalls to my left. Grumbles. I've interrupted their sleep. Soft muffled horsey snores. The rustling of straw.

"_Sorry guys_," I say under my breath. I put my arms out to feel in front of me until my eyes adjust to the darkness. I don't know where I'm facing I don't know where I am. I'm afraid to take a step I might trip over a ladder, impale myself on a pitchfork. My hands make contact with the chalkboard covered with the daily list of chores.

I bump into the ladder that leads up to the loft.

"Dammit," I hiss, my knee already starting to throb. Gotta get out. Bad idea. Need shower. Bed.

"You can't take a hint, can you?"

I yelp, even though there's only one person it could be. The creaking of ladder rungs. The thud of feet landing on the stable floor.

"I wanted to make sure you were ok," I say weakly, apologetically. "You were bleeding. I didn't know if you needed anything."

He doesn't answer. He takes off his suit jacket and hangs it on a nail. I want to go to him. I want to hold him. I want to put aloe on his eye.

"Edward, Mike's an asshole."

He snorts a laugh. "No shit."

"You have to ignore him."

"I do ignore him. I ignore him every fucking day! I ignore his weasely little laugh. His constant snickering behind my back. I ignore his patronizing attitude whenever I ask him a question. I ignore his condescension and self-aggrandizement. But there are some things I just can't ignore. There are some things that make a man a man."

"You're losing me here, Edward. What did Mike say to piss you off? To make you _punch him in the jaw_? You can tell me."

He unbuckles his belt and pulls it from his trousers. Hangs it on a nail next to his jacket.

"What are you doing here, Bella?"

"I told you. I wanted to see if you were ok. I wanted to talk."

"Yeah well I'm not much of a talker."

"Why are you like this? Why are you pushing me away? I thought we were having a good time tonight."

He begins unbuttoning the small buttons of his shirt. It's not meant to be seductive. He's not looking at me while he does it, but of course my mind can't help going there. A man is changing in front of me. Yep, it's a first.

He sighs when he's done and pulls the shirt free from his waist. He's wearing a white undershirt underneath.

"We _were_ having a good time, Bella. _I _had a good time tonight."

"Tell me what happened."

"Fine," he growls, approaching me, clawing the back of his neck. "You wanna know why I punched Mike Newton in the jaw? You wanna know what he said that finally pushed me over the edge?"

His warm breath wafts over my face. He's so close. Vibrations. Untamed. Unchecked. He smells like sweat and cologne; beer and male frustration.

"He was talking about _you_. About how you looked tonight." His eyes wander over my body. I let my arms fall to my sides.

"Your legs. Your breasts. And what he would do to you. He called you a tease. A cock-tease to be exact. _'Good luck getting in her pants tonight, Cullen. She's wound up tight.'_ He talked about all the places where he'd like to stick his dick. Your mouth, your –"

"Alright," I wince. "I get it. You can stop now." Fucking disgusting Pig Newton. I cross my arms over my chest and wish I'd worn a sweater.

"So you can see why I had a problem with it," he says without emotion. "There are certain places that are off limits. A man's date is one of them."

"Apart from nasty Newton, I really enjoyed being your date tonight."

He's silent again. I squint in the darkness to make out his features. He's staring straight at me.

"I shouldn't have left the way I did."

"No."

The tension in the air between us is palpable. Our audience of horses must be dying from the angst cloud hanging over our heads.

"Neither of us seem to be very good at this," I finally say with an awkward chuckle.

"What exactly is this?"

"I don't know."

"Me either. But I know I didn't like hearing Mike Newton talking about you like that. Even if you weren't my date, I wouldn't have liked it."

I shrug and roll my eyes. "Eh don't worry about it."

"I don't like anyone else thinking about you like that."

_Wait, what?_

"Have I made you speechless, _Isabella_? Are you wondering if I think about you the way Mike Newton does?"

The spark of his fingertips trace the length of my throat. He must feel my heart beating wildly. He must.

I swallow sharply.

He hums.

"What was your favorite part of this evening?" he whispers into my ear sending thrills up my spine. I hope he doesn't expect an answer. He doesn't wait for one. He leans in and places his lips over mine. They're warm and sweet and soft and he doesn't push he just presses lightly, waiting, waiting for what I don't know, waiting for my reaction. My head is spinning. I let out a whimper, it's a whimper of pleasure but he stills, he's going to stop so I step forward, deepening the kiss and opening my mouth, touching my tongue to his lip, expecting his tongue to respond. It does and it's velvet and honey in my mouth.

"That was," he pants, finally pulling away to breathe, his strong hands framing my face. "That was my favorite part."


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you all once again for your patience with my writing. I'm still setting the mood, like I do.**

**All credit to Stephenie Meyer for writing Twilight.**

* * *

It's days before I see Edward again. After he kissed me off my feet in the musty stable there were voices coming up the driveway that sent me rushing back into the house with only the quickest of goodbyes said between us. I slept late the next morning, exhausted from the weeks of overtime I put into that damn wedding reception. By the time I made it downstairs everyone had gone for the day, Edward included. It's only normal. Schedules differ. His chores vary day to day and take him all over the ranch lands. But today will be the fourth day without seeing him. I wouldn't say we were avoiding each other. I wouldn't say that. Unless he's volunteering for chores that take him to the far corners of the earth. But I'm sure he's not doing that. ...And I'm not offering to help Esme go food shopping in town for any other reason than it's the nice thing to do.

"Plums, dear?"

"Huh?" I turn to the sound of Esme's voice. She's standing at the fruit bin placing a bag on the weighing machine.

"Plums, they're on sale." She smiles and takes a few more from the bin. "You're in the clouds today. Something bothering you? Something with school?"

I'm taking advanced summer school classes to keep my grade point average up. It should give me what my counselor calls an "academic advantage" and keep me qualified for the scholarship I received for the fall.

But it's not that. I shake my head. Schoolwork has never been a problem for me.

Esme pushes the cart into the next aisle and glances at the cereals. "You know, sweetie, if there's something on your mind…something you want to _talk_ about, or a question you want to ask me, you know you can." The glimmer in her eye gives her away. She's leading.

"Why, Esme, whatever do you mean?" I bat my eyelashes all Scarlet O'Hara-like.

"Oh don't you pucker up that pretty little face at me, miss. I'll be in the _meat _section, should you feel like talking. _Girl talk_. I am still a girl, y'know." And with a swish of her skirt she sashays down the aisle shooting me a wink before rounding the corner. I linger over the Rice Crispies for about as long as I can stand before darting off after her. I find her in the frozen food section fondling a big honking leg of lamb.

"Ok, fine, I want to know about Edward Cullen," I seethe. "I want to know everything about him. I want to know everything you know and I'll explode if you don't tell me right freaking now!"

"Ohhhh I don't know aaaanything about _him_," she sing-songs.

"Oh please. And I don't know anything about you and_ Carlisle_ either." Ooops. Hee hee, yes I let it slip, take that Miss Pratt.

She feigns shock. "Where did you learn to play so dirty? I'm going to have a talk with my daughter."

She pushes us into the detergent aisle so we can gos' in private.

"From what Carlisle tells me - and by _tells_ I mean what I can hear as I attempt to eavesdrop during his team meetings - Edward is from Chicago, is extremely educated, and is here - - um, not of his own request."

"What the hell does that mean, Esme?" I screech. "What does that _meeeean_?" I think I'm partially high from the bleach fumes.

"It means, he's here against his will."

"I kind of gathered _that_," I huff. "He seems pretty freakin' miserable here. But what did he DO?"

"He keeps to himself. He talks to Emmett mostly. They've both been here the shortest amount of time so they've bonded. He likes chocolate and pizza."

"How the heck do you know that?"

"I feed him. He's very charming."

"Please stop reminding me."

"You asked."

"I knoooow," I whine. I can actually taste the Pledge in my throat. "And I appreciate all this but none of it is helping me figure out who he is and why he is the way he is and why I can't stop thinking about him and why it's been four days since I've seen him."

"Did you all have a good time at the wedding?"

"The best. Well, until he got into a fight with Mike Newton. But then he kissed me so - "

"Miss Swan!"

"Yeah I know, don't tell my dad, ok?"

"Your secret is safe with me. Now listen honey, he seems like a very nice boy. He has manners, he says please and thank you, but Carlisle told me he's a 'live wire'. He has a temper. He has mood swings. He doesn't like to take orders. He had a rough life back in Chicago, whatever that means. His parents are dead."

"How do you know that?"

"He let it slip to Carlisle once. And I don't care how tough you are, losing your parents when you are eighteen is tough on anyone. I suggest you let that boy have his space. ...Let him make the first move. Hell, let him make _all_ the moves."

...

I've just finished unloading the grocery bags from Esme's trunk when I hear hooves and footsteps approaching. The sun is still high in the sky. I freeze. Esme's keys dangle from my fingertips. Seconds tick by._  
_

Edward rounds the corner leading Mollymae by her bridle. He looks like he's been rolling around in the mud all day. Before I pass out I come to my senses and bolt to stand in their way.

"Hey. You're avoiding me."

He looks at me for just a second before leading her into the stable. I follow.

"Edward."

"I'm not avoiding you," he says swiftly, petting Mollymae's nose and shutting her stall door. "Been busy, that's all. Stable _boy_, remember?" He pokes his finger into the center of his chest in case I was wondering who he was referring to.

"Is something wrong?"

"Wrong, Bella?" he chuckles bitterly. He kicks his boots into the corner and pulls his socks off one by one hanging them on the rungs of the loft ladder.

"Yeah," he starts. "Yeah something's _wrong_."

I open my mouth to ask what but he keeps going.

"_This_. _This..._is _wrong_." He gestures widely around him, his muscles flexing. "All of it."

"And _this_. ..._This_ is _wrong_." He gestures to the space separating us. "Whatever _this_ is or _isn't_ or shouldn't be. Whatever you're thinking –" He mumbles the rest of his thought away and begins unbuttoning his dirty shirt.

"I gotta change. I'm supposed to be working on the fence by the lodge." He climbs up the ladder quickly and I stand at the bottom in stunned silence. There's rustling in the loft above. Edward moving about. Frustrated footsteps match my frustrated breaths.

What the hell just happened? I can't keep up with these mood swings of his. One minute we're having the best time at a fun party, the next he's getting in a fight defending my honor, then he's walking away from me, then he's _kissing_ me, now he's avoiding me. Who's the girl in this relationship?

Uh oh. That's it, isn't it? Relationship. He thinks I want a relationship. _Oh the naïve boss's daughter, isn't it cute that she's got a crush on the handsome farm boy._

Oh god that's what he thinks. He may be right, but still, it's obvious he's creeped out. Maybe he regrets kissing me. Maybe he regrets coming to the wedding with me altogether. Fuck that! He asked me! It was his idea! What kind of bi-polar basket-case am I dealing with?

I don't wait for him to come down.

...

There's a swimming hole through the woods where all the boys go on hot summer nights after the horses are tucked away, and sometimes on a Sunday afternoon when there's nothing else to do. They take whiskey they bought in town and strip down and swim in the cool waters for hours to ease their aching muscles before they drag themselves back to their beds.

I used to go when I was younger, when it was a novelty to have the boss's daughter tag along, but my father would freak if he knew there was alcohol involved.

I know Edward has been there. I've heard Jasper invite him and I've seen them walk the path with their towels slung over their shoulders.

The sun is beginning to set. I've finished my advanced calculus worksheets and have spent the last hour in a rocking chair on the porch.

"It's hot as balls out here, Bella," Jazz pants, jogging up the porch steps and bowing politely. "'Scuse my French but it is. Paul told the boys to take a break. Esme's made us paper bag lunches and we're going to the watering hole for a dip. Come on with us."

"Nahh, I can't."

"Why not? You used to all the time."

"Yeah, before I got boobs."

"You got boobs? When did that happen?" It's chirpy Alice, sauntering up behind Jasper sporting a bright pink tankini and a lime green towel wrapped around her waist.

"Har har, you're a laugh a minute," I scowl, rolling my eyes. "I see you're ready to practice your swan dives, but I've got studying to do."

"Come on ya big stick in the mud," she taunts. "Edward's gonna be there. You know you wanna-"

With a fake plastic grin I take her by the arm and twirl her to my side so I can say something all private-like in her ear.

"Don't give me grief, you big ho. I never did get the scoop on you and Jasper's little date night that night of the wedding. If I wanted to I could embarrass you right out of your skimpy little bathing suit bottoms. So zip it. Got it?"

"Alright alright I got it. Geez. Just thought you'd like to see him without his clothes on," she loud whispers. "Ooooh you're turning red, you totally do, you wannaaaaaa see itttttt." She makes an exaggerated "O" face and I can't help myself, the crazy girl makes me laugh.

"I'm not coming, Al. …Keep this little bundle of gettin-on-my-nerves in check, willya, Jazz?"

"Ok, well if you change your mind," she pouts. "But you best be careful, Bella. Emmett brought his girlfriend Rosalie back with him for the weekend and I hear she is smah-OKIN hot."

"Boys let's GO!" Jasper hollers over his shoulder. "Cullen! That means you too!"

Aaaaaand I dissolve into the floorboards. Okay not literally but I totally want to. Instead I leap off the porch and follow Jasper and Alice out into the yard where the boys are gathered with their swimsuits and towels. The groan of the stable door signals Edward's arrival. He's wearing a tight white undershirt and jeans and he's holding a light blue towel.

_Why God? What have I ever done to you?_

I take a few steps back, preparing to dart back into the house. But his voice stops me.

"Hey! Where you running off to?"

I think I hear Jasper explain, _She has summer schoolwork._

But Edward keeps on.

"Well, _prep-school_? What's the verdict? Will the subordinate migrant workers be graced by the presence of royalty this evening?"

Jasper retreats to the hole with Alice in tow but I hold my ground. He's not going to chase me away again.

"You don't even know what you're saying, _Edward Anthony_. What happened to calling me Bella? Or how about…_Isabellaaaa_?" I mock, breathily mimicking the way he breathed my name in my ear the moment before he kissed me. I start to walk away but I hear his heavy footsteps following. We end up behind a large tree and I turn on my heel to face him.

"What's your bi-polar problem with me anyway? ...It's not my fault you're sleeping in the stable. I don't know how you got there, what you did to my dad to make him –"

"What _I_ did, huh?" he erupts, ooooh and it's kinda scary. His cheeks are flushed. His hands balled into fists. He's trembling with anger. Anyone else in their right mind would run, but I know he won't hurt me.

"Of course it's what I DID, isn't it, _princess_? Of course _you_ would think that. Daddy's little angel. Big Daddy. He can do no wrong in your eyes. ...I knew this was bullshit."

"I didn't say that."

"You don't know anything about me. You have no fucking idea."

"Then tell me."

He laughs in condescension. "Yeah right. You wouldn't understand, _prep school_." He utters those last two words with such distaste, such a tinge of hatred for what I don't know and I don't care. His tone infuriates me. I'm seeing red and now I want to fight.

"Stop calling me that!" I snap back. The fear is gone now. I'm sick of him lashing out at me for no reason. Sick of him projecting his anger or resentment or _whateverthehell_ is up his ass, on me. I'm not his personal whipping-girl and it's damn time he knew it.

"It makes you feel good to put me down, doesn't it? To mess with my head? You're making fun of me, aren't you? You're trying to confuse me on purpose so I'll stay away from you, is that it? Cuz that's just about brilliant, Mr. Cullen."

"I warned you."

"_You kissed me first,_" I hiss.

"You kissed me back," he counters.

"Yeah and you liked it."

"Damn right." He's breathing through his nose. "And I wanna do it again. Right now."

Sam runs up to us, spoiling the moment. "Yo yo yo Cullen, sometime today, willya? Hurry up before the boys get all the prime diving spots!"

Sam runs off and Edward pulls his sweaty pit-stained shirt over his head revealing his bare chiseled chest to me for the first time. I gulp and take a deep breath, looking back at the safety of the manor house.

"I, uh...well, have fun," I say lamely.

Edward winds his shirt into a whip and slaps me in the hip with it. "Looks like our time here is up. See ya."

I close my eyes tight against the truth of those words to hide the disappointment. Edward walks backwards down the path keeping laser-precise eye contact with me until he's disappeared out of sight.

* * *

**What's Edward's problem? INORITE? Yes, I do know. All will be revealed. Eventually. p Althoooo reviews might help me reveal faster. Maybe an EPOV soon?**


	9. Chapter 9

**EPOV at last! I hope you like. Tell me so or not so!**

**I'll probably be doing more EPOV than I originally anticipated since it's like pulling teeth to get information out of him ;p**

**And thanks a million to SunflowerFran3759 for the loverly beta-ing**

* * *

I watch her through the kitchen window from my vantage point on the lawn. With my back pushed against the heavy bark of a tree, I scoop beans into my mouth with a metal fork, without taking my eyes off of the outline of her profile. She's smiling, laughing. With whom I can't tell. Her long brown hair is pulled back from her stunning face. I remember its texture as it slid between my fingers. I feel my own frown turning up at the corners. Her effect on me even from a distance is electric.

"Whatcha lookin' at, New Blood?"asks an overly-friendly field hand. I'm still learning everyone's name so I don't answer.

Riley _fucking_ Beers follows the line of my gaze until it lands on the large window of the house and blocks the figure of Bella behind the pane.

"Hey fellas!" Riley calls out to the guys behind him. "Guess who New Blood's got the hots for?"

"Shutup, asshole," I grunt, rolling my eyes. No one knows it, why should they, but today is my birthday. I won't be taunted into a fight today.

"Tell me you've at _least_ been to second base, Cullen. The night of the wedding, did you get under that roof, if you know what I mean?" Riley gazes longingly up at the house, dreaming of what lies inside, no doubt a life he's never known and has little hope of ever seeing.

"Chill, man, you're gonna piss him off. You saw what he did to Newton."

"Anyways," Riley continues, unaffected. "We're going out tonight to buy booze and then heading down to the hole. It's a great night for a swim. You in?"

"Yeah, I'll think about it," I mumble as I lick the fork clean."Yeah maybe."

"Ah but the young Miss won't be there. Try not to be too disappointed. We used to invite her, but she never comes anymore. Too busy studying I guess."

"Studying?"

"Oh you don't know? Ya hear that fellas, poor New Blood, so much to learn." Riley puts his arm around me, not knowing that were it any other day, he'd be two fucking seconds away from welcoming my knuckles into his mouth.

"I heard Carlisle caught you trying to sneak off the property. Three weeks and already going AWOL, eh?"

The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I snarl through clenched teeth. "That's a fucking lie and you know it."

Emmett jumps up and tosses his trash in the bin. "Leave him alone, Riley. It's not a crime to leave the grounds after your shift ends."

"I heard he didn't come back till 3am one night. The night watchman said he was dropped off by some redhead in a convertible. And it wasn't the first time. Can't say I blame you, though, New Blood, gotta be boring as hell sitting up there in that stable by yourself all night."

"I said _enough_. Why don't you go mind your own business somewhere else?"

"Why the hell do you care McCarty, new bloods sticking together, huh?"

"What's the commotion over here boys?" Carlisle asks, approaching with his lunch. "Mr. Riley Beers, quite a distance for you to travel for lunch, isn't it? Don't you eat with Mike Newton and the other boys over at the lodge? Or do you make a habit of leaving the feed store unattended so you can cause trouble all over the ranch lands?"

"No, no, Sir I was just coming by, I needed to, uh, there was a question I had for Mister Swan and uh -"

"And you had to walk all the way over here and interrupt his lunch to ask it? You're a very poor liar. ...I'm not your direct supervisor so I have no authority over your work, but this is my crew and you're disrupting their well-deserved lunch break. Why don't you take a hike?"

Carlisle takes a seat at an empty picnic table without another word. Riley sulks off without saying goodbye and I settle back against the tree, relieved that Carlisle showed up when he did.

"I wasn't trying to sneak out," I mutter low enough for Emmett to hear.

"You don't have to explain to me, bro. I know how lonely it can get around here. Riley's a hypocrite for giving you crap. I hear he goes out to bars in town all the time with Newton and the rest of those inbreds from the grounds crew."

"It's not like that. I wasn't – I mean, I did stop in a bar but – "

"Hey there's no shame in it. Sometimes you need the warmth of a woman. Just don't bring 'em back here. Carlisle would definitely bug-out if he caught you, although you do live near the gate so it probably wouldn't be too difficult –"

"That's not why I went. I was buying a present. I missed the last bus and got lost on my way back. I stopped in a bar for directions and a drink, and I met this girl, she drove me back here. End of story."

Emmett smiles, revealing the dimples in each of his cheeks. "Uh huh, like I said, man, you don't have to explain to me."

Ugh I give up. Fine, I'm a player. We rode with the top down and she rode me with _her_ top down. Let them think what they want.

"Your girlfriend seems nice," I say, changing the subject.

...

_"Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home."_

Of all the ways I've spent my birthday over the years, this was definitely a first. I've spent it cold and alone. I've spent it warm with a girl, sometimes with more than one. I've spent it happy with my parents. I've spent it lonely in a bar, lonelier in a church, and free out under the stars. But never in a barn with six snoring horses.

I lie on the mattress on the loft floor and think. I do this a lot after a long day. Lie here and go over the events in my head. It's pointless to focus on the past and what got me here, but that creeps into my thoughts as well. There's a lot of anger inside; and a lot of confusion.

_"A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery."_

I rest _Ulysses_ on my chest and stare at the ceiling. The loft is cramped. I can just about stand up straight without my head hitting the ceiling. To my right is a wall. Turn to the left and it's the railing that keeps me from rolling out in my sleep and falling, two stories to the hay-littered ground below. There's a window above my head. I've opened the shutters and latched them to let in the summer, evening summer breeze. A battery powered lantern provides just enough light to read by, and to bathe my meager surroundings in a warm yellow hue. It's actually pretty cozy if I do say so myself. I've got two oversized, feather pillows and three warm blankets. My clothes hang on a wire line at the other end. Everything goes through the laundry once a week, and I have my own set of towels.

And yet the nights are long. It's hard to make friends. Friends talk about themselves and tell stories. I don't want to tell stories about myself and I don't want to avoid questions. So instead I avoid people. For a few nights after dinner, I've taken the last bus into town and just walked around, watched strangers, listened to their conversations, bought a book and an ice cream. Found a bracelet for Bella.

Dammit, Bella.

I noticed her that very first day, crouched down behind the garden fence in a vain attempt to appear concealed. Who was she kidding? Stealth, she was not. She might as well have been standing out in the open with a megaphone and sparklers in her hair. That's how aware I was of her presence.

My first day. A day of being led around the picturesque grounds of the Promised Land Ranch, meeting dozens of new people, given endless new instructions, avoiding any and all questions about myself; and still wondering about that curious girl. Who was she? Jasper told me her name.

Isabella.

And that first night, handed a stack of forms and shown to my quarters, the realization that our windows faced each other – that the light coming from the topmost window with the see-through curtains was hers.

And I was expected to sleep?

STABLE BOY

How maddening! And worse; how disappointing to know that that's how she viewed me, as a _boy_. A term that was far more derogatory than the location. Yes I worked in the stable, but I was no boy.

And she was not just the boss's daughter - the young, pretty thing whose name and legacy lived on the tongue of every male member of the Promised Land staff.

_She_ was the promised land.

Her determination was irritating and at the same time intoxicating. Her inexperience was evident in the blush that reddened her cheeks and the way she drew her bottom lip between her teeth whenever she found herself out of her league.

Whenever I was around.

I wanted to be around, and yet my guard was up, and up high. A part of me insisted that she needed to be put in her place. She couldn't get comfortable and start asking me questions, because I'd eventually crack and tell her everything, and that would be the end. Where do I go at night, what do I do, what do I like, dislike…all of these details would make her begin to care. And then I'd want to ask her similar questions and then I'd begin to care about her answers and I'd feel, and she'd feel, and I'd leave and there'd be pain. And I couldn't handle any more pain.

People judge. Whether they mean to or not. They judge everything about you from the moment they see you, and they make up the rest. But something about this girl, this Isabella Swan, the boss's daughter, a mixture of danger and innocence...I'm not impetuous, but...I wanted to give her something. If I gave her something, maybe she would make the next move and it would be easy. A delicate bell seemed perfect. I didn't know how to give it to her or if I even would...but then the wedding...she needed a date...I needed to know her. It seemed perfect. And even though I've only seen her a few times since that night, and I'd been an asshole to her most of those times, every time I checked her wrist, and it was always there.

Dangling.

Calling out to me with its delicate bells.

...

_"...her power to enamour, to mortify, to invest with beauty, to render insane, to incite to and aid delinquency: the tranquil inscrutability of her visage: the terribility of her isolated dominant resplendent propinquity: her omens of tempest and of calm: the stimulation of her light, her motion and her presence: the admonition of her craters, her arid seas, her silence: her splendour, when visible: her attraction, when invisible."_

"Hello?"

The creak of the stable door shoots me upright out of bed.

"Edward?"

There's a lump in my throat. "Who's there?"

"It's me. It's Bella."

I rush to the top of the ladder and look down into the dark abyss below, her figure slowly coming into view.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you," she says softly. "You were reading out loud. Do you do that a lot?"

"Sometimes."

I think I see her sway. I'm suddenly sweating.

"I have something for you. Um. You could come down, or I could come up to give it to you."

If blushing had a sound, it would be Bella at this exact moment. I can feel the courage it took for her to come here.

"Or I could leave it here on the ground and you can get it whenever you want…or not." Her footsteps are hurried. I can feel that she feels she made a mistake.

"Don't go!" I blurt out. And then I say the unthinkable. "You can come up, but wait there, I'll come down and help you." I pull on my jeans and a clean, white undershirt and head down.

"Happy birthday," she whispers, her voice audibly trembling. "Even though it's almost over." She hands me the package she's been holding. It's wrapped in sparkly silver paper.

"Thank you," I answer. "You didn't have to."

"I know," she shrugs.

"You weren't at lunch."

She's taken aback that I noticed.

"I was taking a test today. I was, uh, _being given_ a test. I mean I'm _taking _a test, to get into school, well, I already got in but I have to –"

"It's okay, Bella. I understand."

She smiles and nods, and I reach out to steady the ladder and motion for her to begin to climb.

We reach the top and I watch her look around, taking it all in. All the personal possessions I brought with me are propped against the wall or stacked on the one shelf; a few books, some photos.

She's quiet. I'm still. This is it. This is everything I have. Everything I am. If I were standing here naked I couldn't be more exposed.

Her head isn't even close to hitting the ceiling.

She looks down at my bed.

"This is where you sleep?" she asks.

"Yes," I answer without a second thought. There's no reason to hide. Her eyes land on the window above my bed. She steps toward it, tentative at first and then right up to it, leaning out, leaning over the edge into the night and looking right up into her own bedroom window.

"Wow, it seems so much closer from here," she says, almost in awe. And I imagine that she's done this same thing, but from her window, leaning out towards mine. Oh god how I hope she has.

She sighs and pulls herself back inside. And here we are, standing in my small space. Me, with her present still in my hand, and her, with her hands clasped awkwardly at her waist. She's wearing a pretty yellow dress. I've kissed her. I've held her body close to mine, but somehow all that feels like a dream.

There's a sudden lurch in my chest and a dull pain deep inside.

"Open it," she says, pointing to the package in my hands. I look down at the mattress and motion for her to sit. It's the only place to sit, so either we stand or...

She crosses her legs and sits on the edge, leaving me enough room to join her.

"You didn't have to do this," I say with a smile.

"You said that already." she scowls. "Just open it."

I tear the paper and tissue, and into my hands fall two delicate, leather-bound books with gold lettering on the worn covers.

_A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916). Finnegan's Wake (1939, limited edition, signed)._

My head has officially caved in. Have I lost my grip? I'm holding in my hand first editions, first printings of James Joyce's masterpieces; one of them _signed_ by the fucking author himself?

I have to get away from them. I place them next to me and stand up. Bad idea because my head is spinning.

"You don't like them?" she asks, dejected. "You said you were reading Ulysses, so thought -"

She doesn't think I like them? I drop to my knees in front of her.

"Oh Bella...oh dear...these...do you not know? ...Bella. These books...they're treasures worth _hundreds of thousands of dollars_!" I start to come undone." Bella! Are you crazy?! Where did you get these?"

Her frown lifts and it looks like she's going to laugh.

"I went downstairs to my father's library - that he never uses, by the way - and I looked under 'J' for _Joyce_, yes?" She sneers sarcastically. "And that's what I found. So I took them and wrapped them and my father will never miss them. He's never read any of those fucking books."

She curses with such arousing distaste. "But _you_ will. You'll read them and hold them in your hands. The very same books_ he's_ touched. _Mr. Joyce_. _You'll_ appreciate them."

I'm completely leveled. My knees begin to shake.

I join her on my bed. "I will. Bella," I whisper, our faces inches apart. She smells like the ocean. Does that sound stupid? Like the breeze blowing in from the San Francisco Bay.

"Bella, I know I've been acting strange lately and you must be thinking it's you. But I want you to know that it's not. You're not doing anything wrong. You're doing everything right, I just…I don't know how to handle it, that's all."

"Handle what?"

"Handle _you_, I guess. The way you are. How nice you are to me, how good you are, and how much fun, how much I think about you. ...I really liked kissing you."

"I liked kissing you too."

"I want to do it again."

She's silent for an eternity and then her hand cups my jaw and she pulls me in.

"What are you waiting for?"

I imagine scooping her up into my arms and throwing her onto the bed; climbing atop her and ravishing every inch of her virgin body. It's there, clawing at the surface - the animal desire. It's taking all my concentration to keep it at bay, feeling her warm hand against my face, with the moonlight in her eyes. The innocence that enveloped her only moments ago is gone now. There's something more, something significant going on under her surface; something worth knowing, worth risking everything for.

I snake my arm around her waist and shove her roughly against my chest. She squeaks and her hands grip at my undershirt. She likes this already, I can tell.

She opens her mouth to speak but I silence it with my own. With eyes open so I can watch her reactions, I press my lips to hers. She breathes a moan into my mouth and I feel her fingers clawing up my back. Goosebumps spring up across my skin. _This is crazy. What am I doing?_ _I'll be fired. It doesn't matter._ She parts her lips and I slide my tongue inside. It melts against hers and I finally close my eyes, relaxing into the kiss and relishing the sting of her lips against mine.

Somehow we end up toppling onto the bed. I don't know who's fault that was but we're here on our sides, my hands pawing through her hair, her hands have found their way under my shirt and are now pressed flat against the clenched muscles of my bare stomach. Her fingers begin to explore, stroking through the fine hairs below my navel.

"Bella, what are you doing?" I pant, breaking the kiss long enough to speak. Who am I kidding, this has turned into a full on make-out session. She doesn't answer. She grabs me by the back of the neck and pulls me to her wanting mouth again.

"Bella, wait," I protest, pulling out of her ninja grip. I back away a fraction and she looks angry.

"What's wrong?" She asks with a bit of an attitude. "You want to stop?"

"No, I don't want to stop."

She grins and fists my shirt. "Good. You think too much."

"I don't think _enough_, that's the problem. I just DO things without thinking. You here in my bed with that dress bunching up between your legs, and the way you smell and the way you kiss me." I stare at her incredulously. "Don't you see where this is headed?"

"Mmmm. Let's keep going," she purrs.

"Is that what you want?" I growl. "You want me to rip your clothes off?" I push her onto her back and watch as her eyes grow wide. "You want me to climb on top of you, like this?" I straddle her waist and sit on her thighs. She notices the bulge in my jeans; her chest rises and falls in quick panting breaths. "You want me to spread your legs." I lean over her to illustrate just how much bigger I am than she. "You want me inside you, right here right now? Is that what you want? You want me to _fuck you_?"

She nods tentatively but I can see the fear coursing through her. She knows I know she's a virgin, and in this moment, the way she's got me worked up, I'd rip into her most sacred areas without concern for the physical pain it will cause. It would be all about me. I'd bury myself in her without hesitation if I didn't respect her.

So let her hate me. Let her think that I led her on, that I'm playing with her. It's what she's been thinking since we met.

I roll off of her and onto my side, keeping one leg hitched over the both of hers so she doesn't get up and run away.

"No you don't, Bella," I whisper. Her eyes are moist. She's either pissed at me to the point of tears, or embarrassed by her forwardness.

I tilt her chin so she's forced to look at me. "You want something more. I can tell. ...Can't we just stay like this for now?"

I nuzzle into her shoulder until I feel her fingers combing through the hair at the nape of my neck.

"Yes," she sighs. "For now."


	10. Chapter 10

**EPOV**

There's a warped chalkboard on the stable wall where the daily chores are posted. Every morning the troops gather around it to see where they've been assigned for the day. I've learned that there is routine in farm work, but that it also changes depending on the weather, the livestock, and the health and competence of the crew. For a while I thought it was part of an initiation that I was given every shit task there was. Like, _literal_ shit. Clean the stable stalls, shovel the manure into bags, and then lug the bags into the back of the pickup. Drive the pickup to the west field, unload the bags of manure, and shovel the manure into the bins. And on and on with shit after shit jobs, while Emmett and Jasper and the others were tilling soil and fixing fences.

At 5am I ease down the ladder, my joints sore from being thrown from the back of that skittish mare I was trying to tame yesterday. I probably shouldn't have been doing it without permission, but after hauling bags of grain back from that fucking dipshit Newton's store, I felt like me and Betsy deserved some alone time. And we'll get there; she'll come around.

Blinking sleepily, I pull my jeans over my hips and walk stiffly to the board. Paul must have put it up after midnight when I was already passed out for the night.

I hear the stable door creak open.

"Little early boys, innit?" I yawn, scrubbing my hands down my bare chest.

"Hi."

I spin towards the sound of her voice. She's standing beside me in jeans and tank top with a gingham shirt tied around her waist. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and her bangs fall into her eyes.

"Hey." I try to hide the happy surprise in my voice. She's brought the fresh air in with her and the early morning light. We stare at the board in silence.

"Who put that there?" I ask, pointing to the top of the chore list where James' name has been erased in chalky dust and Bella's is printed over it.

"Paul did. I'm sick of studying, sick of working in the lodge. I told him I want to work outside, and it's not supposed to be that hot today. I helped mend the fences last year so he knows I can do it. No big deal," she shrugs.

"Looks like he thinks I can do it as well," I say with a wry smile. "It's just you and me in the west field today."

"Obviously a total coincidence," she winks.

I let out a heavy morning sigh and finish buttoning my fly. I can see Bella's eyes staring at my crotch but I am still too groggy to get pervy.

She catches me catching her and her face heats. I laugh a little and shake my head, climbing back up to the loft to get a shirt.

"I had breakfast so I'll saddle the horses," she calls up after me. "Esme has a plate of eggs waiting for you by the kitchen door."

We load our packs with the few tools we'll need to mend the wire fences. It's a cool morning and a long ride to the opposite end of the ranch, but the sun is already getting warm by the time we arrive. There are a few hundred feet of wire fencing that needs to be restrung and I set to work instantly. I don't care what Bella says or what Paul has allowed; it's going to get hot today.

_Bella's fair porcelain skin under the oppressive summer sun._

This wiring is razor sharp and I'm inwardly appalled that Paul would allow Bella to have any part of this monotonous task. We're working quietly and I turn my head to check on her. She's wearing gloves; smart girl. I find them bulky, and to me it's easier and faster to trim if my fingers are free.

We work efficiently together, snipping the old wiring away, holding it tight with one hand so it doesn't flip back at us when it comes loose, then stretching the new wire tight.

At noon we take a short break, and it's already getting hotter than fuck. It takes a lot for me to burn, so I pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the ground next to the packs. The sweat on my skin quickly evaporates.

By 1pm we've nearly finished the entire front length of the fence that leads to the gate. My legs are tingly from crouching too long and I stand to stretch them.

"Doin' ok over there?" I call out to Bella. She looks up at me and smiles with a nod, but she's tired, I can tell. There are streaks of dirt on her face and I want to work double time so we can finish faster and get her out of the sun.

"I'll get us some water." I climb over the fence and instantly lose my balance as my foot lands on a slick patch of mud. I lurch forward and catch myself on the rail, losing my grip on the cut wire I've been holding. It whips around and whizzes through the air and I know it's bad before I even look down. I know it's bad because it doesn't hurt; not yet. I know it's bad because I can already feel a hot wetness flowing down my leg. I'm cut. How deep, I'm not sure. The thin slash in the denim on the inside of my thigh, right above my knee looks deceptively innocent compared to the amount of blood pooling at the top of my boot.

Fuck.

I move to put weight on it and a cry rips through me, bringing me to my knees. I bite my lip to hold back the pain but Bella hears.

_It's fine I'm fine._

"Edward?" I hear the sound of pliers hitting the ground, and her footsteps running towards me. She's at my side trying to pull my hand away from the wound so she can get a better look.

"No, no," I protest weakly. My head is spinning….tunnel vision….blurry colors…. fuzzy shapes…..

"I'm here, Edward."

_Bella's here._

"No, no." She can't see the blood, she'll faint dead away if she sees the blood.

"Horse." I'll drag myself to the horse. But I'm unable to move, and then the sound of a switch blade slicing through the air beside my head.

"Hold still."

"Nu uh, what the fuck are you- No!" A moment of clarity pierces the clouds and I grab Bella's wrist, pushing her away. I raise myself onto my elbows with a grimace.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to keep you from bleeding to death if it's okay with you. I can draw a diagram in the dirt if you want and we can discuss it at length, or you can let me help."

I glance down at my leg and the black blood soaking my jeans. Sudden dizziness overtakes me and I close my eyes to shut out the blinding sun. There's a warm, dry palm pressing against my bare stomach coated in cold sweat. I allow myself to be gently pushed back into the grass.

Bella's fingertips find their way under my knee, urging me to lift my leg. She apologizes softly and sincerely every time she does something to cause me to hiss with pain. She quickly cuts away the leg of my jeans and I hear the rip of a different material. I crack open an eye from under where my arm is resting against my forehead to see Bella tearing her own shirt that she had tied around her waist.

She rolls the material into a ball before pressing it against the gash.

"Is that ok?"

My eyes are busy wandering up the curve of her back. Lean slim muscle, the beautiful line of her spine arching over me; her skin that always looks so fucking soft.

"Edward? I'm going to tie it off now."

My eyes land on Bella's face. She's blushing, and I can't find words; I can only stare. She frowns and ties the strips of fabric that she's wrapped tightly around my leg and I feel myself dropping off the cliff

"Edward? …Edward, look at me…Edward." There's panic in her voice and I want to tell her I'm okay, but I'm not. She's lifting my head and placing it in her lap. Her hands touch my face.

"Come on you have to help me, all right? Edward! Come on, you have to stand up."

My eyes flutter open and Bella pulls me to my feet. I yelp and sag but she holds me and we walk together. Most of my weight is being mercilessly forced on her but she carries it without a word.

"It's ok," she whispers. "My horse is closer. We'll get you on her and it'll be all right."

She knows she's talking to herself; lying to herself. I haven't said a word in hours, minutes, years. She's saying it will just take a minute, it'll be no time at all, but she doesn't know that we're not going to make it. At least I'm not. Even with the bandages tied tight there is still blood pouring down my leg.

Somehow she gets me on the horse. She's magical. She hops up behind me and curls her arm around my bare chest and pulls me flush against her.

When the horse starts moving I grasp her thighs for balance and when I can't hold my head up anymore I lay it on her shoulder.

**BPOV**

I do my best to steer Mollymae into the turns and away from the ruts and grooves that litter the dirt road. Her hooves trot carefully; her instinct telling her that something is wrong with Edward. Maybe she can hear his heart hammering the same way I can. Or maybe she senses the dead weight of his body across her back. Or the panic and absolute crippling fear that's churning inside of me. Animals have the innate ability to sense stuff like that, right?

Every few minutes I murmur into Edward's ear in an attempt to keep him awake.

"Pay attention to me, Edward Anthony, don't you dare go to sleep. …Dammit why didn't I bring my cell phone? Not like there's any service out here anyway."

I think I hear his weak, beautiful laugh and I lean my nose into the side of Edward's warm neck just for a second.

We make it over the rise of the hill and begin our descent into the backyard. Sam and Embry drop their tools and come running towards us. They know immediately that something is wrong. Without having to ask they pull Edward off the horse into their arms. Edward groans and tries to get his legs underneath him. He keeps murmuring that he's fine as they rush him into the kitchen, where they keep first aid kits, and holler for Esme to call for the EMTs.

The next two hours are a blur of sirens and manic activity; of lights, smells, talking, and the rushing of nurses in and out of the house.

I'm in the way, underfoot; I don't understand the words they're using. I try not to cry, but I can't see Edward. They've put him on a gurney and rolled him into a side room off the kitchen. The smell of blood and antiseptic start to get to me, and in a flash I'm running up the stairs and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and vomiting into the sink.

_He could have died._

I stare into the full length mirror, seeing his dried blood all over me. I quickly strip and pull the shower curtain aside; standing under the hot water, feeling it as it hits my body.

And I watch, as the bright, red swirl goes slowly down the drain.


	11. Chapter 11

**BPOV**

Wrapped in a terrycloth robe I sit motionless on my windowsill for hours. With my feet tucked under me, I watch the ambulance drive away and the men return to the fields. Jasper leads Mollymae back to her stall and finishes the evening chores that would normally be Edward's responsibility. The sun lowers and still I sit, staring, no longer shaking; not thinking about anything except him.

Dinner proceeds as normal. There are hungry men to feed, but I can't bring myself to go downstairs to help Esme. At this point, I'm sure no one expects me to. The food line winds below my bedroom windows but I keep them closed to block out the voices. I know everyone will be talking about Edward. Normally the eavesdropper in me would jump at the chance to listen in, but...I just can't.

Alice called a few times but I didn't pick up. I couldn't bear to hear my own voice explain what happened. I couldn't find the descriptive words to paint the scene for her as though I were writing a theme paper for English class. _Edward's crimson blood was shocking against my porcelain skin_.

It all happened so fast. That's the way it works with emergencies, right? They're unexpected and yet they expect so much. They expect you to put all your fears aside and react and trust your instincts, and all while you remain calm and make split-second decisions.

_A__nd don't get sick, Bella, don't throw up, he'll be fine, it's his blood, it's Edward's, he needs you, stop shaking._

Oh God he was so pale. Even the brightness in his green eyes had dulled. He was looking right through me.

I'm a coward sitting up here, I know it.

I should be downstairs checking on him. I shouldn't have run away. I should have stayed in case he asked for me. _Would he ask for me? Had he? No, why would he? But maybe -_

"You like him."

That chirpy voice nearly sends me sprawling from my perch. How did she get in here? I didn't even hear the door open!

"Wha? Jeziz, Alice! Can't you knock?"

"Sure I can," she smirks, sitting on my duvet and crossing her arms at her chest. "You like him," she repeats, knowing damn well I heard her the first time.

"What are you talking about?" I snort. "He's a _friend_ who just had a traumatic experience."

"And you're hiding up here because YOU LIKE HIM. You swapped out chore duties so you could roll around in the dirt with him, he was your date to the wedding-"

"He invited himself!"

"Cut the crap, Bella. You like him. That's all I'm saying. If it were Sam downstairs getting sewn up you'd be right by his side, swabbing his forehead and making him soup. But it's not Sam, is it? It's _Edward_."

"I know who it is, ok! I know! God, you're annoying!"

"You just hate it when I'm right."

"So I abandoned him, is that what you're saying? I'm up here hiding in my tower while he's –"

I can't finish the sentence. There's a hard lump forming in my throat and it's all threatening to burst. I feel my chin begin to tremble.

"Oh for God sakes, Alice, I rode a horse with him draped over my lap like a rag doll. He was so cold, Alice…so cold and…I didn't know what else to do…I kept talking to him…and, and…it's all my fault. I made Paul change the schedule. I made him put Edward in the field so I could…oh I'm so _stupid_."

"Hey Bella, hey sweetie, don't cry, you did everything you could. You brought him back here. The doctor came right away. He's going to be fine."

"He is?" I sniff.

"Yeah. He is. …Oooooh and look at your face just light up…you looooove him."

I fling a throw pillow at her head and smack her in the arm with another. She squeals and we topple to the floor in full on giggly, pillow-fight mode; and I've never been so happy to have a friend like her in all my life.

...

The antique grandfather clock in the hallway outside my bedroom just finished chiming eleven times.

My stubborn stomach keeps growling. I shouldn't have refused to come down for dinner and I wasn't about to allow anyone to serve me in my room. Even I'm not that much of a princess.

So here I am standing at the top of the stairs in my PJs, in a dimly lit house at eleven o'clock at night, with my knees trembling. I'd fallen asleep for a few hours after Alice left and now I'm wide awake.

And starving.

And curious.

And ashamed.

And a multitude of other emotions, mostly having to do with Edward and all of them leading to more questions and a flurry of different - although equally confusing feelings, and, ugh I can't stay up here any longer. I flutter down the staircase all Scarlett O'Hara-like and hurry towards the kitchen in my socked feet. I sneak along the wall and peek my head into the side room but the cot is empty. There are no signs that anyone was ever in there, let alone hooked up to an IV and blood pressure cuff. My skin flushes cold and clammy like someone just doused me with a bucket of ice cold water.

"He's down the hall. They've made up the den for him."

"Oh I wasn't looking for-"

The kettle whistles and Esme pours steaming water into a mug. Geez, she could turn a light on, couldn't she? Standing in the dark in front of the stove like that all detective-style, catching people creeping around the house trying unsuccessfully to be stealth. My face must be fifty different colors of busted!

But she doesn't call me out. She sits at the table and sips her tea. She looks exhausted. There are creases of concern on her face.

"He refused to go to the hospital. Stitches barely set and he was already trying to get up."

Tears threaten to prick my eyes at the thought of Edward struggling.

"But he's ok, right?"

Esme nods and I can see the relief in her eyes. "Carlisle's taken him off the schedule for the week. Was going to do it for two, but Edward had a fit, stubborn boy. The doctor gave him a shot of something strong to knock him out, and painkillers to take every four hours. He hasn't eaten yet. I was about to put his dinner on a tray and bring it to him. …Unless _you'd_ like to do it."

"I, uh, wouldn't want to bother him."

"Right. Cuz that's what you'd be doing. …You saved his life, Bella. I'm sure he'd like to say thank you."

...

There's a soft glow coming from the room where they've put Edward. It's more of a mini-library than a den, but it has no windows. Some might find it claustrophobic but I find it comforting. I like being closed in by books on all sides.

The nightlight plugged into the wall casts shadows around the room and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust; to find Edward. And then I hear him breathing. A bed had been made for him on the large, leather sofa in the back. He's draped in a white sheet and blue blanket and propped up on hospital pillows. His injured leg is elevated, but other than that he looks completely fine. More than fine. He looks like a sleeping angel.

Carefully carrying his dinner tray, I move closer, tentative step by tentative step and place it on the table next to him. I've never seen him asleep before. I don't know what I expected it to look like but it sure isn't this. Peaceful, content, vulnerable. The left side of his immaculate face pressed into the pillow. His wildly reddish-brown hair sticking up in places and matted down in others. No trace of the pain and panic of this afternoon. His breaths are the steady ones of deep sleep. It seems almost wrong to be ogling him like this. The bad girl in me is attempting to convince the good girl to look at what's under that sheet.

And then he sucks in a deep breath and winces and I remember that it's real. He's not an angel. He's a human; a creature even more precious because it can be broken. I lean down and place a kiss on his warm (but not too warm) forehead, and let myself out.

...

Morning comes too soon and before I know it I'm late for my shift at the lodge. I promised Heidi weeks ago that I'd cover for her so she could take her mother out to lunch for her birthday, and I can't screw her over just cuz I'm a spazz. That means skipping the shower, picking clothes off the floor and throwing anything on, and maybe, if I'm lucky, remembering to grab my purse. There is no time to eat and certainly no time to check on Edward. I hail Emmett down in the pickup truck and beg him to drive me. Thankfully he's heading in that direction and I arrive at the lodge with thirty seconds to spare.

Heidi gives me the lowdown on what needs to be done while she's gone: catching up on inputting guest reservations, calling in the weekly supply order for the kitchen and wait staff, logging overtime hours, and sending out past due invoices. It takes me all of three hours to complete, and by then Heidi is back from lunch and I'm off.

If I could run home without being seen, I would. The urge to find Edward is more overwhelming than ever. Has he been in bed all day? Did someone bring him breakfast? Has the doctor been in to check on him? Does he wonder where I am or why I haven't come? Maybe I should have called? These thoughts plague me as I take the familiar walk home. I wander through the field, where not so long ago Edward offered to be my date.

"Hey Bella!" Comes Jasper's friendly voice from a few yards away. He's walking towards me with Elvis - one of our older horses who we just found out is pregnant.

"Hey Jazz, what's up?" He's so pretty with his white blonde hair and crystal clear eyes.

"You heading back to the house?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Can you bring Elvis with you? Paul called on the walkie, tractor stuck in the mud or something. He needs me ASAP. Pleeeeease? I'd ask Edward to do it but - - shit. ...Sorry, Bell."

I dig my tennis shoe in the dirt and pretend that the comment didn't sting.

"It's ok. Yeah I'll take her. Don't worry about it."

"I am sorry -"

"You go ahead before Paul freaks out." I say it all with a big friendly smile and Jasper hands me the reigns.

We're just over the hill beginning our descent to the house when Elvis stops in her tracks refusing to move.

"What is it, girl?" Sweat is rolling down the back of my neck. Even in cut-off shorts my thighs are sizzling. "Come on, we're almost there." The house and stable are in sight. I'll get her into her stall and then I'll check on Edward. But she won't budge.

"What's the matter, Ellie? It's hot, I know you're tired. You'll be in the shade soon and you can lay down and -"

Before I realize what's happened I've tripped and landed on my butt. An innocent collapse. No harm done.

"What the hell was that?" I grumble, bouncing up and brushing the dirt off.

"That would be a bridle. A harness used to direct a horse."

"I know what a -" I snort...Except...that voice...that cheeky voice dripping with sarcasm and...

Laying on his back in the tall, dry grass with polished saddles and bridles littered around him Edward stares up at me with a sleepy grin on his fucking clean shaven face.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

"I'm a grown man, aren't I? I can make my own decisions." With effort he sits up and crosses his arms on his knees. A crease forms between his eyes and he sighs.

"I'm sorry I scared you yesterday."

"I don't think you're sorry at all," I kid, rolling my eyes. "I think you're feeling guilty because I saved your life."

"Eh, I would have been fine. Just needed to catch my breath and I could have walked back here and stitched that little scratch up myself."

"I'd like to have seen that." I squat down to his level. God he looks so young. My age. Younger. It's freaking me out.

"…I was holding you on the horse."

"Yeah...Thanks for that, by the way. Even if you did ruin my favorite jeans. My ass looked amazing in those." He reaches out and playfully pushes me into the grass before also returning to his back. Together we stare up at the clouds.

I shut my eyes and suck my teeth. "Well, next time I'll let you bleed to death."

Edward chuckles, and goddamn I get butterflies in my stomach every time he does that. I wish he would laugh more. His laugh is one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard. I want to laugh with him. I want to ugly laugh, I want to double over in a giggle fit the way I do with Alice. Except with Edward our laughter would grow quiet and lead to tentative touches growing bolder, and with questions and tender requests asked under whispered breaths.

"Do you have plans tonight?" His voice is close and when I open my eyes I find he's turned on his side, his face inches from mine.

"Uh...no, why?"

"How about coming down to the water with me? Tonight at midnight?"

"Are you sure it's ok to get your bandage wet?"

He nods his head up and down very slowly without taking his eyes off mine.

"Oh, well, I dunno. Daddy comes home tonight and the house will be crazy."

"Climb down the window ledge after your father goes to bed and I'll be waiting. You don't have to bring anything. I'll bring a towel for you. ...What do you say? Will you come? It'll be fun."

I'm completely frozen with shock and fear of the unknown, but something about the sudden warmth of his hand on my arm melts the fears away. It's all behind his eyes and I can't help but say, "Yes, yes I'll come."


	12. Chapter 12

**Overdue Update!**

**Big thanks to SunflowerFran3759 for the awesome beta-skillz :)**

* * *

**EPOV**

"Hold still."

"Ow! I don't need your help, Carlisle. I can do it," I snarl, snatching the tube of medicated ointment out of his hand. He ignores me with a sigh and snatches it back.

"Cut it out, Edward. I do this for the horses' wounds all the time. You're just another horse, and you gotta put this shit on or it's gonna get infected. …I think it already is."

"Who told you that?"

"Common sense. …Hey, shouldn't Bella be doing this for you?"

"The _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?" I bark, jumping to my feet and pulling up my jeans. I cannot believe I was just standing in my underwear in front of my boss.

"Easy, you'll rip your stitches."

"I said I don't need your help. I've got plenty of time on my hands now thanks to you. I can take care of myself."

"If that's true than you wouldn't have ignored the doctor's advice. You would have stayed in the house, in bed, and taken it easy."

"I'm fine right here. This is where I live, right? In this cozy fucking stable loft with all the other animals."

"Feel sorry for yourself much?" Carlisle chuckles. He hands me my afternoon dose of pain medication and antibiotics with a glass of water.

"Who put you up to this nursemaid shit anyway? Miss Betty Crocker Platt?" I snort.

And instantly any fatherly emotion that may have been on Carlisle's face is gone, replaced with a fierce warning in his eyes that you'd be a fool to dismiss.

"I'm sorry," I quickly stammer, hoping he'll forget what I just said.

"Watch your damn mouth, Cullen. Esme was up all fucking night looking after you. If that's all you can say about her then you didn't deserve her kindness."

He drops the pills in my palm and watches intently while I take them. I drain the water glass and hand it back to him.

"Good. Now stop being an asshole and get some rest. I'll bring up your supper…if you're lucky." He gives me a small smile and I know I'm forgiven.

Phew.

…

_It's late._

_I shouldn't be out here._

I've been pushing it all day. Standing when I should be sitting. Moving when I should be resting. Climbing up and down the loft ladder when I should have done what I was told and stayed in the den in the manor house.

There was that extra helping at dinner though. And the extra dose of pain meds when Esme's back was turned. But still. It hurts. Not gonna lie.

Standing alone in the moonlight I look up at her darkened bedroom window. The curtains are closed and I'm out here alone. It's a quarter past midnight. I should have known she wouldn't come. Big Daddy Cash, as I like to call him, came home a few hours ago. He must have put her shackles on and tethered her to her bedposts.

_Mmm I wouldn't mind tethering her to..._

Ah, well. So be it.

Who needs her?

Not me.

I don't need anyone.

_Not me._

I kick my foot into the gravel and wince as the pain shoots up my leg. I do it again; kick, and wince. And again, once more. It's a dull numbing throb and I prefer that honest pain to the jealous stab of disappointment living in my chest. My hand fists through my hair.

_She's not going to come._

The closer I get to the creek I know it's for the best. It was a bad idea to invite her. What the fuck was I thinking? Flirting with the boss's daughter is dangerous enough but it's becoming more. Stares with too much longing and meaning in them. Stares that make us both blush and make my stomach churn with dread.

_She told me she'd come._

At the water's edge I find my favorite flat rock and walk out to the lip of it. It's still warm under my bare feet from the day's sun. There's a full moon tonight bouncing bright blue light across the surface of the water. Peace washes over me and I close my eyes.

_She lied._

There are voices in the distance, chatter and laughing. A few of the guys must have had the same idea as me. I can't see them but I hear them nearby, taking turns jumping off the rocks. Part of me wants to join them, to be a part of their camaraderie, to make friends, to have them and keep them. But a bigger part of me wants to stay right where I am, in this moment, in the moonlight. With my eyes still closed I strip out of my clothes, kicking them into a ball. Once I'm naked I curl my toes over the edge of the rock and prepare to jump. The night air envelopes me and suddenly there's the sound of breaking twigs, the movement of unsteady footsteps behind me. I don't panic. I couldn't be more vulnerable at this very moment and yet I'm not afraid.

The noises stop and I know I'm not alone. Slowly I open my eyes and look over my shoulder. There she is, just standing in a shadow, cutting her eyes back and forth across my body until they find the nerve to meet mine. She's been running. I can tell by the way her chest heaves. I taste her scent in the air and force myself not to get aroused.

Will she run to me? What is she waiting for? I won't go to her. She already has the upper hand. She's fully dressed. My clothes are in that pile over there.

There's only one thing to do. She opens her mouth to speak but instead of waiting to hear what she will or will not say, I turn and dive gracefully into the water.

She can't see it but inside I'm glowing. Fucking glowing that she's here. I won't show her though. Not yet. I swim for a few moments without paying her any mind. She stands on the rock and watches me. Just to be a dick I dive underwater again and swim away. She has no idea how long I can hold my breath and this time I force myself to stay down until my heart pounds, my lungs ache, and my head throbs. When I can't take it any longer, I resurface, out of sight and watch the worry on her face as she walks from one edge of the large rock to the other, her eyes scanning the black surface of the still water. I dive under again and swim closer before busting through the water like a hammer through a glass table sending it spilling out in rivulets around me. My breath is heavy and ragged. I anchor my arms to the side of the rock and grin at her.

She's hiding a smile. She wants to laugh but she's pretending to be mad.

She's standing so her bare feet meet my wet forearms. I shamelessly let my eyes scan her up and down and up and down and...Goddamn her.

So unashamed am I that I can feel my eyes peeling the clothes from her body, leaving her standing naked in front of me.

"So. You coming in or what?" I taunt, blowing a wet strand of hair out of my eyes and licking the drops of water from my lips.

The sounds of the boys making a ruckus in the distance startles her like an unsteady fawn and she crosses her arms over her chest.

"They don't know we're here," I reassure her.

"Fine. Move out of the way so I can get in."

"Ah ah, no clothes allowed."

"I am not getting naked in front of you."

"It's only fair. You've already seen _me_ naked."

"I didn't _know_ you were going to be naked! Who stands naked on a rock in the middle of the night!?"

"Fine. I'll turn my back. Jump in when you're ready."

The rustling of her clothes as she removes them is the soundtrack to the soft-core porno film going on in my head while I wait impatiently for her to finish.

And then, like a pale streak in the night, she dives over my head and lands in the water, emerging with the biggest smile on her beautiful face. A "that was fun" smile.

"Now what?" she asks, breathlessly treading water. She really did it. She took off all of her fucking clothes.

With a gleam in my eye I break into a breaststroke and lead her to the other side of the rock crevice. She's a good swimmer, following effortlessly behind me. The water on this side of the formation has gotten deeper. Treading it is going to wear us out so I take us closer to the shore until I feel the pebbly floor under my toes.

"It's so incredibly beautiful," she says to no one in particular. "I mean, I've been coming to the hole since I was a kid but never out this far. I didn't even know the water pooled back here. And the cliff, god it's so high." Her eyes grow wide as she looks up and takes it all in.

"Please don't tell me you jump from up there?" And then she looks at me, her brow creased with real concern like she's thinking about it and picturing me doing it and falling, crashing...and my leg starts to throb.

"Why? Does that worry you?" Sincerity creeps into my voice and something in Bella's face changes. The playfulness is gone and she's wading towards me, closer and closer until she's a breath away, her brown eyes drilling into my own like paralyzing moonbeams, and I feel her hand take my wrist and she's pulling me around the edge of the rock, never taking her eyes off mine. There's no one around and that's when she does it. She pushes me against it and it's cold and it's slimy and she leans in, her eyes fluttering closed.

"What are you doing?" A chuckle escapes my throat and yeeeeah that's not what she wanted to hear, cuz her face falls and there's that defensive pout and those narrowing eyes.

"I...was going to kiss you," she says. She's so fucking cute I can't stand it.

"Fuck you, Cullen. I don't know what you're laughing at. You -"

Her words are lost in my mouth as I grab her face and kiss her with urgency and a sudden desperate need. Our lips are moist from the cool, slightly moldy-tasting water. We're tasting, lapping, turning our heads easily from side to side to feel the sensations that the different angles produce. Even with my eyes closed I'm able to notice how small Bella's mouth really is and how soft her lips are and how my own mouth fits perfectly over hers no matter which way I tilt my head, even when I open my mouth wider to suck in her velvet tongue. She moans low and my eyes fly open to find her big brown ones staring back at me.

With a shy smile she presses her palms into my lower back, pulling our bodies together under the water. My inevitable erection is now flush against her hip and something inside me snaps.

I could take her right here. Her body is calling to me. The signals are being shot off like rockets. My erection is growing and there's no way to stop it. No way to hide it from digging into her hip. She giggles into our kiss and I know she feels it. Her hands find their way to my ass cheeks and I'm positive she feels it. She becomes even more brazen, pushing me back into the mossy rock and pressing her tits to my chest. The water brushes her collarbones but those are definitely her hardened nipples rubbing over my chest hairs.

This is torture. She wants me to touch her there, inside her own wetness. She's making these mewling kitten sounds and I know it's because I haven't moved my hands from the sides of her face. Her hands have now found their way from my ass cheeks around my waist to the ridges of my hip bones and I pray to God she stops there. She doesn't know me. She doesn't know that if I let myself go I could grab her and flip her, push her against this rock and fuck the shit out of her.

Prying her hands from the hair at the back of my neck, I force a bit of distance between us.

"Bella, Bella..." I pant, my head spinning. "We need to stop this. I'm going to lose control."

"I don't care," she mutters, throwing herself back in my arms.

"_Bella_," I insist, gripping her shoulders. "Stop."

"What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?" Her eyes are wild with overwhelming wonder and searching mine for answers.

She doesn't understand.

She has no idea what she's doing, does she?

_Oh, sweet girl. We can't keep doing this. Do you know what happens after kissing? My hard cock is throbbing right next to your pussy. We have to stop or I will take you right here and now and strip you of your virtue. But what scares me more than anything is the fact that you'll let me. You'll let me rip through your virginity without even acknowledging its preciousness._

All these thoughts and more race through my mind as I stare down into that perfect face.

But I say none of them.

Instead, I turn and swim away. She calls after me but I don't answer. I dive under the water and stay under for as long as I can; until my lungs are burning, until I reach the grassy shore.

I can't let this girl get to me.

I can't.

I can't fall for her.

I can't love her.

I only hurt the ones I love.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Oh man I've been away so long! Excuses excuses and more excuses. But I'm back. Thank you for continued reviewing and liking my other fics, Upside Downtown and The Most Beautiful Widow, in particular. It makes me so happy that they're still being read and getting love. So without further ado, here's a quick chapter to get you back in the Stable Boy mood.**

* * *

**BPOV**

There's no eloquent way around it. No Jane Austen-channeling or Walt Whitman-plagiarizing will suffice. No poetic verbiage will adequately articulate the current rush of emotions coursing through every tingling fiber of my being. There's only one way to express my feelings right now. The way of a humiliated seventeen – soon to be eighteen – year old girl. And that way is…..

I _hate_ Edward Cullen.

_Hate_ him.

Hate that smug face and sassy smirk.

Hate his stupid voice and condescending stare.

Hate the all-encompassing mystery that surrounds him.

...those smoldering eyes and succulent lips.

...the way he draws me near and then pushes me away.

...the air of boredom he carries around the ranch day in and day out.

These are the thoughts that buzz around my head as I take my own unique walk of shame through the dewey northfields at one-thirty in the morning.

Maybe I asked for it. After all, I was late meeting him.

_"Climb down the window ledge after your father goes to bed and I'll be waiting. You don't have to bring anything. I'll bring a towel for you. ...What do you say? Will you come? It'll be fun."_

_"Yes, yes I'll come."_

But Daddy had come home early and proceeded to spend the entire dinner service and two hours after lecturing me on how I need to spend less time hanging out in the fields acting like a "wild boy-child" and more time inside behaving like a "young lady focused on her studies".

A proper young lady. Head of the manor and next in line for all that comes with it.

Whatever that means.

It's a talk I receive at least once a month or whenever my father is home long enough to notice that his little girl is growing up to have a mind of her own and maybe the college he's picked out for her and the course of study he's planned to go along with it is not necessarily what she wants to do anymore.

Anyways, when I'd finally pried myself out from under my father's disapproving stare and managed to slip out the side entrance, it was well after midnight and Edward was already gone.

_…_

"He knows you're a virgin, stupid," Alice says dryly. She's been propped in the middle of my four-poster bed painting her toenails a nauseating shade of watermelon for over an hour now. Every few minutes she stops to take a sip from a sweaty bottle of Mike's Hard Lemonade that she swiped from Esme's secret stash in the basement cooler.

"He's a stable hand, sweets, not a Sex Ed teacher. Maybe he doesn't want the responsibility of being the first to cram his giant cock into your tight virgin vag," she hiccups. The .02% alcohol-content has apparently gone to her head.

"Ugh God, Alice. You make it sound so gross. Is that how you felt about letting Jasper cram _his_ into _yours_?"

"That's different. We'd been with other people."

"So Edward doesn't want to have sex with me cuz I'm not a slut? That's fucking interesting," I sneer.

Alice's injured frown tells me she's not amused.

"Sorry. I don't think you're a slut, I'm just…confused, frustrated, and horny as hell."

She finishes blowing on her toesies, scoots across the comforter to the edge of the bed and slings her arm over my shoulder.

"What I mean is, Edward obviously _really_ likes you. He totally could have taken advantage of you in the water last night _or_ when he was your wedding date that time _or_ every time you pass each other in the stable and give each other those weird swoony gaga faces. But he hasn't. I wonder why? Hmm?"

"Ok but then why invite me to the swimming hole at midnight? Why get naked with me? And swim naked with me? Why kiss me…oh god Alice he kissed me so sweetly…like he really meant it, y'know?" I touch my bottom lip hoping to reignite the feeling of Edward's hot tongue gliding over it.

"I'm sure he _did_ really mean it."

"Yeah, right," I groan, flopping onto my mattress like a sad beached whale. "He's just bored here. You see how bored he looks all the time. He's playing mind games with me for a sick thrill or something."

"You don't know him, Bella. Not really, anyway. No one around here _really_ knows him. He won't let anyone get close to him. Don't you think that's strange? There's all these rumors swirling around about him but no one knows the truth. I dunno...maybe it's for the best. If he's pushing you away it's probably because he's afraid of hurting you. And if he's afraid of hurting you," she burps and flops down next to me. "It's probably because he knows he can."

I hate it when she's right.

"How'd you get so smart, huh?" I sigh, swiping her bevvie and taking a swig.

"Eh, I'm making it all up as I go along."

...

Deliveries are late this week. Not only are they late but when they finally do arrive, they arrive all at once, they need to be unpacked and checked and counted and signed for all at once.

It's what us folks on the ranch call, ALL HANDS ON DECK.

Feed. Seed. Frozen goods. Perishables. You name it and it is currently being unloaded onto the front lawn of the manor house. Japser and Emmett and the rest of the guys are quick to help pull bales of hay, feed bags and sacks of seed from the semi's and load them onto our own trucks to be hauled to their destination.

Esme signs the invoices and puts them in a folder to give to my father when he returns from meetings in town. Everyone does their part to move the process along quickly and I'm right there with them.

"You sure you can handle that, _Miss_ Isabella," Edward smirks as he watches me lug two bags of seed into the barn. "You're awfully fair_...skinned._..to be unloading a trunk in this hot sun. Wouldn't want you to get sunburnt."

"I've been doing this long before you decided to show up here," I groan, shuffling past him into the barn. We haven't spoken since that night at the watering hole and THIS is how he choses to address me? The balls on that boy. ...don't get me started.

"Is that so?" he answers back, not even bothering to provide any assistance. He just stands there squinting in the bright afternoon sun with his strong hands on his narrow hips, thoroughly amused as I trudge back and forth.

"Yes. That's so," I pant, dropping two bags at his feet. I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and tighten my wilting ponytail. "Is that so hard to believe?"

He dismisses the question and looks through me towards the empty trunk behind us.

"Mmmhm...well, not that it's any of _your business,_ but I didn't _decide_ to show up here. It was decided for me."

"Ha. Yeah right. No one is making you stay here. You can leave whenever you want."

Edward smirks and takes a slow, predatory step towards me.

"Shows how much you know." His skin is tanned from being out in the relentless sun and heat. His short-sleeve white shirt is drenched and clinging to every defined muscle in his chest and back. I'm breathless and just a little bit scared right now. I think I smell a hint of old alcohol on his breath and my heart cracks a little. He went out last night I bet.

"Your father is making me stay here. And I don't get to leave until I've worked off my debt. What do you have to say about that?" he challenges.

"Your debt?" I gulp. "Debt for what?"

Oh god. Why am I asking? I don't want to know.

For a moment I think he might bolt and run, leaving me standing here with my thumb up my ass waiting for an answer. His breathing is ragged and there's something like electricity in the air around us. Even though I'm frightened, I'm more than turned on.

"Stealing," he says finally, with something akin to torment boiling behind those eyes. Something closer to fear.

"Stealing what?"

"Nosy aren't you?" he snaps and the familiar animosity is back.

"You brought it up-"

"A horse from your father. I tried to anyway, but your cook caught me as she was coming out of the market."

"Esme?" I chuckle and shake my head in disbelief.

"Yeah I don't think she likes me very much."

"No way. She likes you alot. When I go through the kitchen in the mornings I always see her setting aside extra food for you. Like you were her son or something. And when you got hurt," I wince at the memory, the blood, Edward's pale face. "...she took care of you."

Edward shrugs, doesn't smile, and I can see he's trying not to show how touched he is by what I just said.

"Maybe cuz she knows I wasn't stealing just to steal."

"Why _were_ you stealing?"

"That's none of your business, Miss Isa -"

"Stop calling me Miss and _STOP_ calling me Isabella! I'm Bella."

"Not to us."

Ouch. WTF?

"Oh yeah? And who's _us_ all of a sudden?" Tears prick my eyes. I just don't understand him. Why is he doing this?

"What's happened to you, Edward?" He doesn't answer. It's not a rhetorical question. I really want to know.

"I don't understand your games. I don't know how to play them." I choke back a sob with the palm of my hand. "And I don't know why you're trying to hurt me." Without another look in his direction I step around him and over the feed bags, rushing out of the stable before he can answer, before he can see me cry.

"You win," I say over my shoulder. "Congratulations."

I think I hear a curse, a slam, a kicked over bench, but I don't look back. I don't care. I can't.

...

"Why didn't you tell me?" I demand, bursting through the screen door into the kitchen all red-eyed and puffy-faced.

"Bella?" Esme wipes her hands on her apron and rushes towards me, her eyes full of concern. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened, honey?" She tries to touch me but I pull away and dart to the other side of the kitchen. Her eyes are wide, her face drawn and I'm guessing my appearance has something to do with it.

"About Edward, why didn't you tell me?" Tears stream down my face. I do nothing to stop them.

"Tell you what?"

"You knew all along," I sob, borderline hysterical. "And you kept it from me. You knew how I felt about him! _You knew_!"

"Bella, calm down."

"I won't calm down! Let me guess. You wanted to protect me. You didn't want me to get hurt by the big bad new boy. Poor precious, Isabella. Poor fragile little girl." There's acid and sarcasm and anger in my voice, venom dripping off of every word. Esme hasn't moved closer. She knows what I'm talking about now. She knows she's been caught.

"This so typical," I spit. "This whole place and everyone in it - you all treat me like I'm a child!"

"Bella, I never said -"

"You're not my mother. You don't have to protect me."

Esme's face falls and I know I've crossed the line. I want to take it back but I can't. She looks so sad now. I was trying to hurt her and wouldn't you know it, that's exactly what I did.

"I know that," she says, gathering herself together and returning to the stove where she had been stirring her famous collard greens.

"I know I'm not your mother, and if I've treated you like a daughter it's because I've loved you like one and that's my fault."

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

"I'm sorry," I say weakly, my voice hoarse from crying and yelling. "Esme, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I just...I don't understand why you didn't tell me what you knew. I asked you. I trusted you and you kept it from me. If you wanted me to stay away from him you should have told me-"

"Bella! I didn't tell you because I wanted you to give him a chance!"


End file.
